


Fire in the Stars

by venomRED



Series: Paragon: Savior in the Stars [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 109,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomRED/pseuds/venomRED
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hounded by the Reapers and Cerberus at every turn, Commander Shepard must race against time to unite the different races of the galaxy against a common enemy if they have any hope of surviving the brutal onslaught of a millennia-old foe. But with the stakes for survival this high, some will stop at nothing to see him fail. (Rated M for Language/Violence/Adult Content)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dedication and Foreword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrulyCertain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyCertain/gifts).



_**Fire in the Stars  
** _ **Foreword**

Hello again, dear readers! I want to thank each of you for being a part of this third and final chapter in my Mass Effect retelling, and I'm so excited to be able to share it with you. I've been looking forward to writing Fire in the Stars for a long time now, as it's without a doubt how I would have designed the plot of Mass Effect 3. A few things are the same, but most are quite different, and I hope you all enjoy reading how it should have ended, according to me at least.

For any new readers who have stumbled upon this page, Fire in the Stars is part three of my series that begins with The Darkest Night; so start there or you'll likely be terribly confused! I'll be taking a few days to read back through TDN and FWAM in their entirety, and break down my massive plot outline into chapters, and then we'll get to work!

This piece is once again dedicated to TrulyCertain, the one responsible for making me so stir-crazy to write this damned trilogy in the first place. Seems only fitting that its final piece is in her honor as well.

Thanks again for coming back for this third installment, here's hoping it's everything you've waited for. I know it will be for me.


	2. Prologue: In the Shadows of an Empire

_**Fire in the Stars  
** _ **Prologue: In the Shadows of an Empire**

* * *

Toreval stood from the hunched-over position he'd taken in front of the workbench, the wire-frame diagram hovering above the table's surface dimming slightly as he pulled his attention away from it. Though he tried to keep them from it, his eyes once more sought out the viewport across the room, and he let out a deep breath at seeing merely the empty hallway outside this room, though the action did not calm him. As if in response to his attempts to ease his mind, a metal pipe fell somewhere in the distance, its hollow and lonely clanging to the floor only accentuating the emptiness of this once-thriving place.

Toreval finally tore his gaze from the viewport, crossing the room to the comm terminal and beginning the encryption sequence that would carefully and deliberately code their message to anyone who would listen; anyone who _could_ listen. Though the room was new to him, and had far more up-to-date technology than his main laboratory on Ilos, the console functioned similarly, and he was able to broadcast the signal discreetly. It warned of the Reapers, of chaos, of death...of the end of an empire. His message sent, Toreval turned away from the comm terminal, and back to the large, imposing main command console for this station. They had called it the Citadel, though they hadn't been the ones to create it, and they'd made it the central hub of their entire empire. It's silhouette had adorned the empire's crest, and they'd even manipulated the development of language on the worlds of some promising yet primitive species to include its name. He shook his head as he stared down into its dark interface. They had put so much faith in technology they'd merely stumbled upon, and that faith had been their undoing.

They hadn't been ready, not by a long shot. Toreval squeezed his eyes shut as he recalled with painful clarity the Reapers' first attack. They had come all at once, using the Citadel as an entry point and screaming across their galactic empire like banshees, tearing a bloody path through their entire civilization. High Command had acted quickly to defend critical worlds, but no speed would have been fast enough, and one by one they began to fall. Military gambits had ended in tragedy, communications were almost completely blacked out, and traitors within the ranks had brought the once-great Prothean empire to its knees. Toreval had been a lead researcher at the Sel Tras archive, overseeing the development of a primitive species on Sel Vod, the neighboring planet, when the Reapers had come. He'd quickly been transferred to the Ilos lab, to work on a counter-measure for the Reapers, any way to destroy the machines that had come to end them all.

He'd watched the vids in the comm bursts, had seen his own world burning under the Reaper assault. It had pushed him, and he'd finished the design, a device to use the Reapers' own mass relay signals against them, reversing the polarity and stopping them from using their own transit devices. It was brilliant, they'd all thought so, but when he'd presented it to High Command, they had demanded he find a way to kill the Reapers, not simply waylay them. They hadn't even taken his files...

Toreval shook his head, pushing away the pain of that memory just as he'd pushed away the harsh realities of everything they'd seen since awakening from the stasis pods just a few short days ago. Their species obliterated, their empire destroyed, the galaxy silent, and with just the twelve of them left of their thousands-strong research team to tell the tale. They were people out of time, walking on the surfaces of a galaxy that would not be ready for their kind again for tens of thousands of years. They had taken what data they could and left Ilos, using the very conduit they'd been researching to come here, to this place, the eye of the devastating storm that had rendered them extinct.

Hesitantly, Toreval reached out, tapping the controls on the console that hadn't been used in hundreds of years. He had studied the system logs kept in these machines over the past couple days, and had come to understand how the Reapers were able to take over the Citadel. It was an oversight that the Protheans, in their haste to acquire something new and wondrous, had failed to rectify over the millennia they'd spent using it as the seat of their empire. A tiny crack in the wall, and it had brought the whole thing crumbling down. Toreval's hands flew in a controlled frenzy, deleting code here, modifying it there, calling new run-times throughout the code that would derail the plan the Reapers had used before, and could just as devastatingly use again.

Once he was sure his change had been accepted, he reached to the pouch at the small of his back, removing the data crystal there, and moved forward to connect it to the terminal, but hesitated at the last moment. His hand hung there in the balance, holding in its grip thousands of years of research, history, culture...everything that was the Prothean race. The Reapers had used the records within this station, perhaps even this very console, to exterminate his people; was he so certain that his work would stop them from using the Citadel again? And if so...he would have delivered to them the very soul of his people. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, crossing back over to the comm terminal and establishing a connection to his old research terminal on Sel Tras. With the Reapers gone from the galaxy, the connection was instantaneous, and he began the file transfer of selective pieces of information. He would spread them throughout the galaxy, a trail of information, so that someday some species could know of his kind, and the fate that befell them.

He pulled up his real-time monitoring devices from Sel Vod as the data transfer continued, their recordings not having been watched in centuries, and peered through their eyes into the surface of the primitive world below. His primary satellite had been following a group of the primitive species as they'd lived out their lives. It was night now, and they huddled around a burning fire, their hands held out for warmth. They wore animal pelts, and carried crude spears to protect themselves. Toreval smiled weakly, reaching out to touch the screen affectionately. He had watched over and cared for these creatures, and now they were adapting, evolving, just as he'd hoped they would. He shook his head slightly as he watched this primitive race, still concerned with the beasts that lurk in the night, completely unaware of the massive genocide that had happened all around them in space. With one last fond look for the creatures, he shut down the monitoring program, recalling all of the devices back to the Sel Tras archive.

"Toreval?" the call came from the doorway, and he started, turning quickly to meet Vrek's tired face. "Is it done?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I have altered the code, it should stop...all of this...happening again."

"Good," the other prothean said. He paused uncomfortably for a moment before speaking again. "The...scouting party came back. I am afraid they did not bring good news."

Toreval nodded in understanding, then chuckled softly. "The most advanced species in the entire galaxy, and its brightest minds are destined to die of simple starvation." He looked over to meet Vrek's eyes. "I could choke on the irony."

"Yes," Vrek replied, looking down the hall for a moment. "it would be a cruel end. Fortunately, Krethhis has a more...dignified option, for those who choose it."

"What do you mean?"

Vrek motioned for Toreval to follow him, and he did so, the two protheans walking in silence down the long hall, and out into a large central chamber. This had been the seat of Prothean High Command, here in the eye of the Citadel, and the large pane viewport behind their seats looked out into the nebula in which the station lay nestled. The normally peaceful vista was spoiled now by the corpses of thousands of ships scattered the space outside the Citadel. Toreval tore his eyes away from the floating graveyard, and fixated on the group of scientists in the middle of the chamber. He nodded to them in greeting as he and Vrek approached, and Krethhis turned to them as they arrived.

"I have developed a poison from my supplies on Ilos," he said quietly. "It kills quickly, and with no pain. Far better than starvation. At least, that is what we have decided." Around their circle, the rest of them nodded. Finally, when all gazes fell upon him, Toreval stared at the syringe in Krethhis' hand for a long moment before nodding as well. They all sat down, each with a space of the floor to themselves, taking their final moments to reflect upon their lives. Toreval did not reflect, he did not mourn, he simply stared back out into the chaos outside the Citadel and hoped. He hoped that what he had done here would be enough. He hoped they would find his plans and notes, kept secret out on Sel Tras, he hoped he'd given the next generation a fighting chance.

Krethhis came around to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he stuck the needle into Toreval's arm. He met the doctor's eyes with a nod of thanks, which the other prothean reciprocated, then brought his gaze back to the wreckage just as High Command's flagship, rent asunder by the lead Reaper in the final battle here, slid into view. Anger welled within him, and he hoped again. Not for knowledge, or enlightenment for the lesser species. Not for the peaceful deaths of his colleagues, the bodies of whom he could now begin to hear slump to the floor behind him. Rage raced through him, as did the poison, and as the edges of his vision began to go black, he focused his last remaining moments of consciousness onto the flagship, and he hoped as his body began to tumble over in death.

He hoped that the next time, would be the last time for the Reapers.


	3. Who We Used to Be

*****Author's Note*****  
Alrighty, here we are! I've gotten a couple of messages asking this since I hadn't  
left an author's note on the Prologue, so I'll answer it here. The Protheans in the prologue  
were the last remnants of the Prothean cycle. There were a dozen or so Prothean scientists  
in stasis on Ilos that survived (out of the thousands that were put into stasis) and were  
awakened after the Reapers left the galaxy. Once they realized what had happened, they  
used the Conduit to the Citadel, changed the Reaper backdoor commands in the Citadel, then  
died, most likely of starvation. Their meddling is what caused the Reapers to need to send Sovereign  
ahead of them in our cycle, since they couldn't all just relay into the Citadel like they did during the  
Prothean cycle. That's all the canon lore has to say about them, but they'll be a little more integral  
to my re-telling. So you can effectively think of the Prologue as a "50,000 years ago..." chapter.

Ok, with that out of the way, let's get into the meat of the story here. I'm happy to see so many  
of you back and ready to go, and so I'm pleased to present to you _Fire in the Stars_. Enjoy!

* * *

**Who We Used to Be**

"You're certain about this?" he asked again, just to be sure.

She folded her arms across her chest, turning her head to look out the viewport at the half-dozen or so Alliance workmen replacing large metal panels on the anterior section of the ship. The retrofit was proceeding quickly, almost too quickly if she were honest about her feelings on the matter. It seemed every day that some old favorite part of hers was being removed from the Normandy, to make way for something a bit more high-tech. After a long moment, she turned back to the man.

"Yes," she said with no small amount of regret. "I am." She let her gaze flicker past his clean-cut blue uniform and out into the Mess, where even now more workmen removed the large table they'd gathered around multiple times, for reasons both good and bad.

_"Late night," he calls out, crossing to take a seat across from her. It's been five hours of non-stop paperwork, and the cup of coffee she's nursing has just enough steam wafting up from it to keep her eyes open as the waves of heat lap against her eyelids._

_"Hmm?" she calls back, slowly lifting her head to see him already taking the seat. "Oh, Commander," she corrects herself, cursing inside her head. She tries to straighten her back, to project poise and control, but a smile crawls across his face, and eventually she slumps forward again. "Yes, it most certainly is." She takes a long sip of her coffee, shaking her head as she studies him. "How do you do it, Shepard? How do you just keep going, and going, never stopping for yourself, never feeling the weight of it all..." she trails off. Horizon had been...eye opening...for them all. She had seen things down there that she doubted now she could ever forget._

_"I feel the weight," he says quietly, and she raises her eyes back up from where they had rested in thought to regard him once more. "The pain of losing friends, of not being able to save everyone, of how important our mission is...it can burn inside you, like a white-hot piece of steel." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down into the dark metallic surface of the table. She can tell just by looking at him that he's time travelling, seeing back into the past with a clarity only time can provide. "You can't stop feeling it," he continues, "but you can temper it."_

_"How?" she asks quietly, genuinely transfixed._

_His eyes rise to meet her, and his confident smile quickly slides into place once more. "By remembering why we fight, who we're fighting for. Trillions of people of every species, all across the galaxy; their lives are in our hands. What we do ensures their survival, or destruction. That's enough to motivate me to look past the heat, stare through the fire." He leans forward again, folding his arms on the table. "Every person in this galaxy has something worth enough to them that they'd fight forever to see it kept safe. Sometimes we know exactly what those things are; sometimes we only find out with time." He pauses for a moment before standing up once more. "But you're nothing shy of a genius, Miranda; I'm sure you'll figure out what you're fighting for. Hell, maybe you already know."_

_She returns his smile with a weak one of her own. "Thanks, Shepard," she replies quietly. He nods to her warmly, and disappears into the lift. She can see the deck indicator decreasing towards 4; the lift descending ever closer towards what_ he _fights for..._

The workmen at last uprooted the table from its bolted-down position, dispelling the ghost of her former self sitting wearily above its surface, and she tore her gaze away, transfixing them yet again on the man in blue. "All of the crew have been taken care of?"

The man nodded, the white hair on his face and peeking out from under his cap belying his age even despite the sharpness of his eyes. "They have. They'll all be reassigned here, together."

"Under whose authority?" Miranda probed not-so-gently.

It was Admiral Hackett's turn to look out the viewport in thought. After a long moment, he spoke. "I'm not sure yet." His gaze pulled away, back to meet her own. "The batarians will want blood for what happened in the Bahak system, but there's just enough of a discrepancy in the evidence to keep Shepard safe."

"You don't sound entirely sure of that, Admiral," she said quietly.

He shook his head slightly. "I wish I could be, but I'm just one voice." His eyes seemed to look through her, to some far-off place, before they snapped back into focus. "Either way, the Normandy and her crew will be in good hands, I can assure you." He extended his hand to her, and she took it, shaking it firmly before he turned to leave.

A long quiet moment passed after the doors had quietly slid closed behind him, and when she thought she was in the clear, Miranda called out. "EDI?"

" _Greetings, Ms. Lawson, how may I be of assistance?"_ EDI's voice filtered through the air, and Miranda couldn't help but let a smile slip onto her face. The AI had become very adept at disguising both its runtimes within the ship's systems, as well as it's human interface systems, as a typical VI. The smile quickly faded, however, when she began the conversation she'd hoped never to have.

"I'm leaving the ship, EDI, do you have the information pulled from the Cerberus networks?"

" _That information has been downloaded into your personal omni-tool on a secure channel,"_ the AI replied, maintaining the facade. _"I..."_ it paused for a moment, " _wish you well on your travels. It is a privilege to serve."_

Tears welled in the corners of Miranda's eyes, and were the situation not so painful, so personal, she might have laughed. Was she really getting this upset over leaving this ship? An AI? Perhaps it wasn't so much the act of leaving, but the loss of what the Normandy and EDI had stood for; safety, camaraderie, hope. "I'll miss you too, EDI" she whispered into the air, before grabbing her bag and stepping out of her former quarters. She crossed to the lift, nodding encouragingly to all the former Cerberus crew, now wearing Alliance blues. Some saluted her, others merely nodded, and when the doors to the lift slid shut she closed her eyes, pushing away the pain of what she knew she had to do.

The lift opened, and Miranda stepped out into the CIC. Everywhere steel beams and wiring hung loose or disconnected, the revamp of the ship now in full swing. Her eyes were drawn to the doorway of the Armory, and her heart stung inside her chest. She deviated from her path, crossing over to rest a hand on it longingly. The cool metal pressed against her skin, and she let herself feel the pain of losing Jacob all over again, the rage at the Illusive Man's indifference, the comfort that the crew had shown her in the days afterward.

"He was a good guy," the voice came from behind her, and her eyes snapped open as she turned her head in surprise. Joker stood there, a datapad in hand, and she offered him a weak smile.

"Yea," she said quietly. "He never gave up on me, no matter how many times it cost him."

The pilot nodded knowingly. A long moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again. "I, uh, heard you were leaving the Normandy."

"Yes," she said, pushing the pain away again. "I had knowledge of quite a few of Cerberus' secret projects divisions; my leaving won't be taken lightly. I've got to go underground for awhile." She paused, then added, "Though it's hard to think of anywhere that's safe from Cerberus right now."

"Yea, I know how that feels," he said with a short laugh. His eyes looked downward, and then he seemed to suddenly notice he was holding three small plastic tubes in his hands. "Oh hey, I've got to get back." She nodded and he began to walk away, his gait noticeably improved from the first time they'd met, then stopped and turned back around. "And um...here's hoping this isn't the last time you're walking the deck, yea?" The smile that accompanied his words was a genuine one, and she returned it in kind. He nodded, then turned back to the lift and disappeared from sight.

Miranda took one last look around the CIC, then walked up the long hallway and into the airlock. When the outer hull door opened, a crisp wind blew her hair back and whipped it around her face. She stepped hesitantly out onto the catwalk, gazing across at the Seattle/Vancouver megacity beyond. She began to walk down and away from the ship, then turned her head to take one last look at the ship that had, quite literally, changed her life completely. It hung by magnetized clamps in the morning twilight, silhouetted against the rapidly fading star-speckled space that was her home. In an instant, dawn arrived, its light skating across the metal sheen of the ship, and announcing it to the world as she watched. _A proper send-off indeed, she never disappoints_ , Miranda thought with a smile, then turned and walked further into the bustling city below.

* * *

The soft morning light spilled in through the large windows of the living area, illuminating the majority of the small apartment in a subdued, pale yellow glow. The light reached out, its motion faster than the eye could perceive yet somehow seeming to take its time, washing quietly over every surface. It stretched across the living area, blanketed the kitchen, and crept through the small crack in an otherwise-closed door. As its source continued to rise slowly over the horizon, the light pressed ever-onward into the darkness beyond the doorway, a single ray of light sliding further and further into the darkened room.

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy lay quietly on her side, watching the slim line of light reach silently into the room she shared with John. _The room she shared with John_ , the thought drifted across her mind, and she smiled behind her visor. She turned gently to look over her shoulder at his sleeping form. He had been up late again last night, speaking with Kaidan about all that had happened in their time apart. For a brief moment in time, it had been as if the SR-1's destruction had never happened, the three of them sitting around the table laughing and sharing each other's events. But as with all happy moments, it seemed to end all too quickly, Kaidan disappearing into the night and the two of them retiring to the bedroom. She didn't need as much sleep as humans did, and so often times she simply lay awake like this, staring out into the darkness of the room and listening to the rise and fall of his steady breathing behind her.

In some ways, being blocked from the extranet and all comms traffic was oddly refreshing. She had been in blackout situations before, but up until now they had all involved combat and her imminent death. This new idea of just relaxing was one she could definitely get used to. _Some day_ , she thought as she continued to watch the small bar of light grow. _When the Reapers are gone, and the galaxy no longer needs Commander Shepard...some day life will calm down_. A frown began to make its way across her face then. Would the galaxy ever truly have no more to ask of John? Could it even get on anymore without him? The thought made her uncomfortable, and she rose quietly from the bed. With one more loving glance for his sleeping form, she stepped out of the bedroom and into the living quarters, crossing to the large panel windows that looked out over the city.

Vega had told her about the city one morning while John had been asked away to speak with Admiral Hackett. The two separate cities comprising it, Seattle and Vancouver, had both eventually grown so large that they began to overlap. This had been around the time that the Systems Alliance was being formed, and the cities had decided to become a beacon of cooperation to the fledgling organization, joining resources, governments, and people to become Earth's first megacity. The Alliance had repaid this symbolism by placing one of their major headquarters buildings within the megacity, and the rest was history. She looked out to the east, the glowing yellow star Sol rising over the planet's horizon, and her heart tightened. It was a beautiful sight, regardless of which planet she tread upon while watching it happen, and it made her long for Rannoch all the more.

The old conflict welled within her once more: her love for John and her love for her people. Desperately she hoped they could be one and the same, but he was needed by the entire galaxy, not just her or her people. Besides, they hadn't shown him the warmest treatment when last he helped them. Her eyes drew away from the sunrise, and she wrapped her arms around herself in thought. Rael had tried to contact her numerous times since the Alarei, and she'd done her best to ignore and not think about him. John had a plan, he always did, but if it cost him the love of her people...well, it was a price she wished he didn't have to pay. She thought of the distance they'd come in just the past few months; she'd been pulled out of the greatest pain she'd ever experienced by his sudden reappearance in her life, and she done her damnedest to make sure she didn't repeat the same mistakes of the past. He knew how she felt, and what's more, he felt it too. That thought alone pushed away the fear and the doubt, and she happily allowed it to do so.

She heard him before he arrived, and smiled as she stared straight ahead at the continuing sunrise, the star's bottom curve could almost completely visible above the horizon line of the megacity. If he had told him once, she'd told him a thousand times, he couldn't sneak up on her; still it never failed to make her smile when he tried. His arms reached out to wrap around her from behind, and she leaned back into him, feeling his chin rest on her left shoulder. She feigned a startled jump, and he laughed.

"I know better than that by now," he said, his voice in the gravelly tones of having just woken up.

She shrugged. "Just trying to start your day off on a high note."

He chuckled again, squeezing her for a moment before looking out at the sunrise. After a moment, he drew a long breath. "It's been a long time since I've been to Earth. Seeing this almost makes me regret it."

"Almost?" she whispered.

"Yea...I mean Earth never really felt like home for me; it was just where I came for training."

"I suppose..." she trailed off, watching the sun rise up fully over the horizon. "Still, it's beautiful to see."

"Yea it is," he answered quietly. "Soon you'll have your own sunrise to wake up to."

Her hands reached down to touch his where they were clasped around her waist. " _Keelah,_ " she whispered, "if anyone could do it, it would have to be you, _saera_."

She felt the soft press of his kiss at the back of her neck, and closed her eyes with a smile. "I'll pencil it into my busy schedule," he whispered, and she laughed quietly. He let go of her then, crossing the living area to start making his coffee. She turned to watch him with a smile. As much as she dreaded what the Alliance would decide to do with him, the past five weeks had been, in her opinion, a well-needed and very well-deserved break for both of them. She could see the lessened tension in his movements, feel the relaxation sinking in every time he came nearer to her. Every biological signal her people had adapted to pick up on was telling her he was in a much better place at the moment, and she had quickly begun to be more appreciative of every passing day they had here.

She crossed to the kitchen table, but no sooner had she taken a seat than the chime for the door sounded. John dusted the coffee grounds off of his hands and stepped around the kitchen island, crossing to open the door. Lieutenant James Vega stood on the other side of that threshold, a datapad in one hand and a small white box in the other.

"Morning, amigos," he called out when John opened the door.

"James," John greeted him, "come on in. Between the datapad and the mystery box, I'm not sure which to be afraid of more."

Vega laughed, a deep appreciative noise, and crossed over towards the kitchen table. Halfway there, he turned to toss John the datapad. "Datapad's for you; you wouldn't want what's in the box." As he reached the table, he set the box down on top of it, then slid it over to Tali. "You might though, ma'am," he said with a wink, then turned back to speak with John. She opened the box to find a plethora of nutrient tubes, in any variety she could think of. She reached in to touch them, and the sensors in her gloves told her they were still cold. With a smile, she turned and put them into the refrigerator before crossing over to sit next to John on the couch.

"Thanks, James," she said as John read over the datapad. "You're a life-saver."

"Hey no problem," he said, waving away the imagined effort. "I had a few gambling debts to call in with some supply vessel captains anyway, it was about time they paid up."

"This doesn't make any sense," John whispered, looking up from the datapad to meet Vega's gaze. "The Reaper IFF was the only one of its kind; hell, we had to rip it out of the corpse of a damned Reaper to get the thing at all."

"And retrofit the Normandy's propulsion and relay interface systems on the fly to handle the new hardware interface," Tali added, reaching for the datapad that John had lowered to his lap. He picked it back up and handed it to her; if it was supposed to have been for his eyes only, Vega didn't seem to mind. "It's one-of-a-kind," John continued.

Vega shook his head apologetically. "Looks like Cerberus pulled one over on you, Commander. Telemetry data says the Omega Four relay has been used no fewer than five times since your mission to the Collector base; and those are round trip counts."

John scowled. "I should have expected it; I suppose in some small sense I did." He let a moment go by as Tali looked over the data. James spoke the truth; the numbers didn't lie. John spoke up again. "Alright, we know Cerberus is the enemy, why haven't we parked a ship out there to wait for them?"

James nodded. "That's what we suggested, tried to get it pushed through. Wait the bastards out, camp the relay. Command said it was too risky. The relay is in Terminus space; if we send a warship out there to sit on it, we're just asking for trouble with the races in the Terminus, including but by no means limited to..."

"Batarians," John finished for him.

"Bingo," Vega replied. "And the situation's already tense enough with them, what with all these bullshit charges flying around."

"So they're just going to let Cerberus keep...doing whatever it is they're doing out there?" Tali asked.

"Yea," Vega replied with open disgust, "we're officially ordered to continue telemetry and nothing more."

"Right," said John. "So what are we _actually_ going to do?"

James' omni-tool made a small chime, and he opened it to check the message burst he'd received. After a moment, he closed the device, looking back to John and Tali. "I'm sure there's something going on behind the scenes, but it doesn't look like its my job to tell you about it." He stood up, crossing to the door. "I'll let the next guy handle that." He winked and opened the door, snapping a salute immediately. "Sir," he said to someone outside the door.

"At ease, Lieutenant," came a familiar voice, and Vega dropped form and nodded, stepping out of the door with one last nod for the two of them. Councilor David Anderson stepped into their rooms, looking around the place for a long moment before closing the door behind him and smiling at them. "Nice place, Shepard. You stay here much longer you might start to get soft."

John smiled, getting to his feet and walking over to shake the man's hand. "Anderson, can't say I expected to see you here."

The man nodded. "Can't say I expected to be here, but the situation's grim." The two of them crossed back to the living area, and once they were seated comfortably, Anderson continued. "Someone's trying to frame me for collusion with Cerberus; and whoever it is has deep pockets, because it's going off well."

"And the Council?" John asked.

Anderson looked away resentfully. "They're following protocol and performing an investigation, but they've never liked having me in their little club, I won't be surprised if it's not the most thorough investigation they've ever done." He sighed heavily, looking out the window. "I left Udina in my place, so at least the work will get done, but...events...forced me to get off the Citadel for awhile. Naturally once the word got out, they called me here to answer some questions." He met each of their gazes levelly. "Hackett's standing up for me, but we don't have a lot of friends around here right now, Shepard. And that is very unfortunate for us."

"How so?" Tali asked quietly.

Anderson let out another deep breath, shaking his head slowly. "Because the Commander's hearing is in two hours' time."

* * *

"Because the containment protocols don't read 'CLASSIFIED' simply to _look_ important!" Liara fired back, the frustration in her voice belying her rapidly-deteriorating emotional control.

Dr. Green smirked at the outburst, the woman seemed to take genuine pleasure in eliciting frustration from her. After a moment to enjoy Liara's irritation, she spoke in a calm, measured voice. "Again, I apologize Dr. T'Soni, I only read what's given to my office inbox; I'll be happy to submit to any security review you'd like me to undergo, but please understand the uncomfortable situation I'm in, as well."

Liara could slap the smug look off this woman's face. Instead, she simply shook her head and waved her hand. "Just get out. I'll deal with this through more formal channels. It isn't my job to baby-sit you, Dr. Green." The other woman didn't miss a beat, nodding politely and stepping away through the door, the sharp _click_ of her heels receding down the hallway beyond. Liara let out a long breath. She had long suspected Green of being up to something, and had said so to the others, but she'd come vetted from reliable sources, and Liara had simply been told to keep an eye out for anything strange. Well, if looking into classified files weren't enough to tip the scales, whatever the reason, then nothing would be, she thought. She tucked the incident report away into her desk drawer; her superior wouldn't be back on Mars for another few days, likely the reason Green had tried anything in the first place. Her omni-tool chimed, and she smiled, opening it up to see a projection of her VI, Glyph. "Hello, Glyph."

"Dr. T'Soni," the VI greeted her, "you have an incoming transmission from an unidentified contact."

"Go ahead and patch it through," she replied, and the connection was established.

" _Liara,_ " came Feron's raspy Drell voice through the device's audio emitter. " _How are things at the Archives?_ "

She rolled her eyes. "Frustrating," she called back. "I would love it if, for just one day, I could actually do some _research_ at the Archives. Seems I'm becoming more administrative every day."

He laughed in response. " _Amusing to hear that coming from a person in your position_."

Liara chuckled despite herself. Since taking over the reins of the Shadow Broker's intelligence network a little over a month ago, she'd quickly expanded the Broker's influence and linked her own information network into the new one. In a week, she'd made the position of Shadow Broker more powerful and knowledgeable than it had ever been before. Feron had stayed on board the flagship, and together they'd found the perfect place to hide it away: a small sector of space around Vidian IV. The system was regularly avoided by space traffic due to high magnetic fields throughout the system, but with the proper calculations they'd set up shop perfectly, hidden away from any wary travelers that might venture into the system, and still close enough to the nearest comm beacon for her to conduct her whole range of operations. Feron had taken those over in her absence, but he still called regularly to inform her of major updates...and even when there weren't any major updates; for which she was thoroughly grateful.

"Yes," she replied. "Here's hoping I'm back home before too long. Any news on your end?"

" _Nothing mission-critical,_ " the Drell replied. " _Our sources within the Migrant Fleet have all gone dark, though. Could be trouble there, or they could just be jumping to a new system; it usually gets quiet for a few days after a relocation of the Fleet._ "

She nodded. "Alright, just keep an eye out for any reports, I still want them in on-time."

" _Understood."_

She smiled softly. "And thanks for watching over all of this for me, Feron. I promise I'll be back soon."

 _"Not a problem; it's not as if there's anyone else who could do it._ " She heard his laugh through the device, and her smile deepened.

"I've got to get back," she said, gathering up the datapads that lay strewn across her table. "Let me know if something big comes up."

 _"Of course,"_ he replied, and the line cut out.

She stood to leave her office, when from far away in the other end of the complex, an explosive blast sounded out. A second later, the foundations of the structure shook violently, and Liara was thrown to the floor from the aftershock. Swearing, she stood up, brushing herself off as a voice cried out over the public announcement system.

" _Cerberus! Cerberus are in th-"_ the sound cut out, and Liara froze in terror. Gunfire could be heard far off down the hallway, and she ducked back behind her desk, reaching into the hidden compartment and retrieving her heavy pistol. Checking the rounds, she cocked the weapon, grabbed an empty archive disk, and rushed off in the direction of the Central Prothean Archives.

After hearing about what the Reapers had done to the Protheans from Shepard, she knew that if Cerberus dared attack a research installation this close to Earth, there was only one thing they were after.


	4. Change of Plan

*****Author's Note*****  
Hello again! It's fantastic to be back to writing Fire in the Stars, and  
I've been really moved by the numbers of PMs I've gotten since being  
able to start back up. For FitS, I'm going to break apart chapters a little  
more than I have been in my other pieces, so instead of 8-9 thousand word  
chapters, but 30-35 of them, we'll be looking at 4-5 thousand word entries  
and expecting somewhere on the order of 50-60 chapters before this bad boy  
is all said and done. Like I said in my update, I had to step away for awhile due  
to work, so I've been re-reading my own work and retracing my notes just to  
make sure I'm not contradicting myself. If you see that happening, feel free to  
point it out, but I think we should be good. :)

Thanks for all of your kind words  
and, most importantly, for joining me again on this wild ride. Enjoy!

* * *

**Change of Plan**

_*****EDIT***  
** Bearmauls made an excellent point about a discharge feeling a bit rushed in this sense, so I've edited the wording to more accurately reflect what I suppose would have happened. Just a couple of sentences, and shouldn't affect the overall plot. Thanks for the information, buddy!_

The hallway bustled with blue-clad personnel, rushing this way or that, some faster than others but all moving quickly. Occasionally one of them would realize who they were scurrying past and snap of a quick salute or a muffled "Sir!", but for the most part they kept their heads down, looking at datapads or speaking on comm channels. It was a certain controlled chaos, the kind of which John was more than used to as a result of his many years in service to the Alliance. He'd had a long career, one he was proud of, and one that seemed to be in danger of ending all too soon.

"Shepard? Are you listening?" Anderson's deep voice cut through John's internal train of thought, snapping him back to the present.

"Yes, sorry sir," he mumbled. Anderson continued looking at him for a moment, then stopped, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it looks bad, son. But you've got me, and you've got Hackett; we won't let you go down without a fight. Whatever the disciplinary board says, you're not sitting this fight out when the Reapers show up."

John nodded sharply. "Understood, sir."

Anderson slapped his shoulder. "Good." They continued walking up the corridor, and stepped into a lift that would race them up to the top floor of the Alliance HQ building, where John's hearing would take place. "Our comms team has been trying to get in touch with the hegemony leadership for almost two weeks now, hence your long stay. Their ambassador isn't revealing why, so we're pretty sure it's a power play."

"You think they're taking a silent treatment approach until they get what they want from this hearing?" John asked as the lift doors closed and their car lurched to life up the shaft. He stared out the glass enclosure, over the rapidly-descending megacity skyline, still worrying despite Anderson's encouraging words. The man had fought for him since he'd taken the XO position on the SR-1, and he appreciated it more than he'd ever be able to say, but the only person who could truly calm his nerves at this point was floors below, in a waiting area with Kaidan and Vega. Outside spectators had been barred from attending his hearing, which meant it would either be very short, or very classified. Likely both.

"That's the official interpretation," Anderson replied.

"And the unofficial one?" John probed.

"I don't like it," Anderson replied. "The batarian ambassador has been hostile, as expected, but he seems almost as troubled by the lack of communication from the hegemony as we are. I've got a feeling something bad has happened on Khar'shan."

"Reapers?"

"Could be, but I'm not sure."

John stared out the enclosure again as the lift began to slow. "We're not ready. Not by a long shot. If Bahak only gave us five weeks, they're on the warpath."

"Then let's get this taken care of fast so we can get you back out in the black," Anderson replied, as the lift doors opened. A short hallway brought them to the entrance of the disciplinary board's chambers, an Alliance marine flanking each side of the double-doors. They saulted as Anderson and Shepard approached, and the two men passed through the doors, stepping into a large cicular room. On a raised dais on the far curve, backdropped by large glass windows looking out onto the city below, sat the seven members of the board. They were joined at the far left end by the batarian ambassador, whose eyes ignited when they met John's. He held the alien's hateful stare, owning it, accepting it, before standing at parade rest behind the rectangular table that had been placed in the center of the room for them.

"Commander Shepard," came Hackett's voice from the far right of the board, "we appreciate you taking the time to meet with us today, and for remanding yourself into our custody for the past five weeks. It's longer that we planned for you to remain there."

"Yes," Admiral Dravos chimed in from somewhere near the middle. Her graying hair was pulled into a tight bun behind her head, and the implications that the small lines in her countenance gave off were quickly negated by her sharp, green eyes. "Your patience with the process has been noted and is commendable, Commander."

John nodded. "I respect the judgment of the disciplinary board, and am glad to assist their inquiry however I am able."

"Then perhaps you can assist me in understanding what happened to three hundred thousand of my people in the Bahak system, _Commander_." The ambassador's words were ice cold, and he laced John's rank with enough venom to be palpable.

"Ambassador Ji'kahn is blunt, but understandably so," General Gairen said, softening the blow a bit. "Still, that is the purpose of this inquiry, Shepard. The destruction of the Bahak system is common knowledge by now, and the batarians claim you are responsible."

"It's more than a claim, general," Ji'kahn continued, his gaze never wavering from John's. "We have a fragmented audio file warning the colonists in-system about a pending explosion, which our researchers attest is a ninety-six percent match to the Commander's voice. We have comm buoys registering message between the research station and an unknown ship, on channels the Alliance have told us time and time again are for 'special operations'. And I've recently been told that your people may have archival security footage from inside the research station. Tell me, Commander, does that sound like a claim, or an open-and-shut case to you?" The room was silent for a long moment as the two men stared at each other. Hackett broke the silence.

"Yes, we have acquired video footage from inside the base, showing firefights between Shepard and Alliance personnel. Based on what my team has seen, we're under the presumption that the research center went rogue, possibly due to the types of artifacts they were housing within thei-"

"Christ, not this again," Dravos cut in. "Ancient alien artifacts, Reapers, mind control? Do you hear what you're saying, Hackett? You're supposed to be one of the more level-headed ones on this panel, and you're willing to chalk all of this up to mysticism?"

"What other reason would these Alliance soldiers have for assaulting, detaining, and incapacitating a ranking officer aboard the station, then firing on him when he recovers and tries to escape?"

"Self-preservation, perhaps?" She shot back. "All we've seen in these tapes is a research center full of Alliance personnel, who start getting gunned down by the Commander, who then accesses the navigation controls for the station, and we all know what happens from there. You just assume Shepard was in the right on this, when all evidence points to the contrary."

Hackett shook his head sharply. "That's a fairly large assumption to make, Admiral. Shepard was in the Bahak system on an extraction run for doctor Kenson."

"The same doctor Kenson he fatally wounded in the navigation center?" Admiral Rhen added.

"Yes," Hackett replied, "we can only assume she was with the rogue Alliance personnel as well, seeing the capture of the Commander as a way to weaken our forces before the Re-"

"Or we could all arrive at the logical conclusion," Dravos retorted, "and realize that the Commander, for whatever reason, commandeered an Alliance research center, crashed it into a mass relay, and killed hundreds of thousands of innocents as a result."

"This is ridiculous," Anderson cut in through the din of murmurs that followed her statement. "Shepard has proven time and again that he has the best interests of not just humanity, but all species, in mind."

"Yes," General Gairen added, "The Commander has been forced to go above and beyond for the causes of all species, on many occasions. But good deeds, however meaningful, cannot excuse what it blatant before us."

"Whatever the reasoning behind his actions," Dravos said, "we're dancing around the key issue we're here to discuss. Commander," her eyes bored into his as she spoke, "did you or did you not set the Alliance research base on a collision course with the Bahak system mass relay?" Silence fell for the first time in minutes, and John swept his gaze across the disciplinary board. Somber faces and leering eyes met his, and the batarian ambassador wore a smug face of finality.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Shepard," Anderson whispered beside him. John simply nodded, finally meeting Dravos's face once more.

"I did, sir."

" _Koret'nash mik rhen satshe!_ " Ji'kahn burst out, standing from his seat and pointing down at John. "The hegemony demands immediate custody of this man for punishment!"

"Absolutely not," Gairen replied, before Dravos had a chance to speak again. "The Alliance has never, and will never, give its people away to foreign powers for incarceration. The hegemony will have to understand." Ji'kahn seemed ready to explode with anger, but eventually subsided under Gairen's stern glare. Once he was certain the batarian would not interrupt, he returned his gaze to John. "John Shepard, in light of the evidence provided, and of your own testimony, this disciplinary board finds sufficient reason to press formal charges against you for the destruction of the Bahak system mass relay, and the deaths of over three hundred thousand batarian non-combatants. You are hereby removed from active duty, stripped of any effective rank, and are ordered to be remanded to a secure location until a military tribunal can pursue formal inquiry and requisite action."

"This meeting is adjourned," Dravos said, and the heads of the military stood, beginning to leave.

The words hit John's chest like a rifle round, and time seemed to slow as he struggled to remain standing. He had known coming in that this was one possible outcome of his hearing, but for it to actually happen. The two guards who stepped up on either side of him went almost unregistered in his mind, and he seemed to float on a cloud of disbelief as they led him out of the hearing room and away from the lift that would take him, should take him, back down to the apartment he shared with Tali. They marched him through corridor after corridor, and at one point he could have sworn Anderson had approached him, told him he would take care of things, find a way to get him released. Nothing registered at the moment. The organization he'd given his life for over and over again had just disowned him, for buying them the very time they'd needed to do so.

Eventually John's journey ended in the detention block, where the two guards walked him into a cell, stood at post outside, and slammed the door. John shook his head slowly, trying to clear away the disbelief and confusion, then closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest against the concrete wall of his cell. He stared up into the flat, featureless ceiling, wondering again if it had all been worth it. What good had stalling the Reapers been if he wouldn't be on the front lines fighting them. And Tali...he pushed the thought from his mind. He couldn't do that to himself right now, he needed to think clearly. He squeezed his eyes shut to think, and slowly but surely, the weight of the situation took its toll, pushing him further and further away from consciousness until he stopped thinking altogether, and let the blackness claim him.

* * *

" _It's done,_ " the woman's voice replied from the other end of the line. " _Shepard's been burned as far as the military is concerned, and is in a holding cell awaiting charges. With the way things are looking, he won't be coming out of it any time soon._ "

"Well done, we appreciate your cooperation, Amelia."

" _Stow the fake courtesy. Where are my husband and daughter, you monster?_ " For all the steel it could muster, James Kashon heard no small amount of fear in Admiral Dravos's voice. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a smile at the thought of the power he held over her. But, he thought, in the coming days he would need allies like her; allies with power, and who knew that he could get to the things they cherished if he needed to.

"Now Admiral," he said in the most sickeningly sweet voice he could muster. "We had an arrangement, of which I fully intend to hold up my end. This doesn't have to become personal."

" _What part of 'not making things personal' does kidnapping my family fall under?_ " She spat back at him. Kashon shook his head.

"I needed collateral, nothing more," he replied calmly. He reached down to tap at his omni-tool, then stared at it for a moment until he received the confirmation signal he required. Only then did he return his attention to the admiral. "Now, we could sit here and argue intentions and semantics all day, but I believe you've got an important dinner to get to with your family, isn't that right? Girard's, on 9th and Park? I believe you mentioned you had an eight o'clock reservation."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a long moment. " _I suppose I do._ "

"I hear it's an excellent establishment," Kashon continued, standing from his chair and walking to the edge of the room. "And don't worry about the bill, it's already been taken care of. Just remember, admiral," he paused for effect, smiling as he did. The theatricality of his persona was never lost on him. "I'm always watching." With a single tap on his omni-tool, Kashon severed the comm link and scrambled the transmission frequencies. The admiral had been easy enough to leverage once her weak point had been found, but he took every precaution regardless. People became brave when they were angry; brave and stupid.

Kashon paced back and forth in front of the large viewport his personal office used as a rear wall while he checked his various projects on his omni-tool. Troops were mobilizing on his objectives, and many more were undergoing conversion therapy. Brutall, yes, but to defeat the Reapers his forces would have to use every advantage the enemy did. What his men and women now lacked in free will, they gained tenfold in coordination, speed, accuracy, and willingness to die for the cause. Loyalty without question was no longer desired, it was a given. In just under two months, Kashon had turned Cerberus from the lame dog it had been under the Illusive Man's rule into the three-headed attack beast he had known it was destined to be. However, he had decided to keep the name, he recalled with a smirk. As he flipped through the datapad, a priority comm burst came through, and his smirk grew into a full smile as he read it.

"Good, now we can begin."

* * *

" _Ka laiath'al!_ " Liara whispered harshly, jamming the thermal clip magazine into the base of her heavy pistol. The weapon was hot in her hands from hard use, and sweat trickled down the side of her face. She shrugged a shoulder up to wipe it away as she slowly peered over the edge of the ventilation grate to assess the situation below. A single Cerberus operative, heavily clad and carrying a shield the size of a hovercar door, stood sweeping the med bay below her. Quietly, she aimed her pistol through the slats in the vent covering, regulating her breathing. Her finger began to slowly squeeze on the trigger.

"Team six, do you copy?" the voice called out directly below her, and she snapped her weapon back, barely stifling a gasp of surprise. A moment later, three more Cerberus soldiers joined the first one, and she silently thanked the Goddess for her patience. She would have been hard-pressed to win a fight against all four of them, and she shuddered to think what they'd have done to her if they-

"NO! No, please! I-I'm just a res-ugh!" The cries brought her attention back to the men below. The first soldier she'd seen was laughing cruelly as he drug a salarian out from underneath a workbench, twisting his arm as he went. The salarian's cries were abruptly cut off by the soldier's swift kick to the alien's stomach, and he now lay doubled over on the floor, clutching the wounded area and moaning.

"Looks like you owe me ten credits," one of the new soldiers said to the first. "Told you we'd find something in here."

The first soldier returned the other's gaze, the blazing yellow eyes of his helmet seeming to sear a hole through him, before raising his metal-clad boot over the salarian's head. The creature tried to scream, tried to beg, but before he could make a sound, the soldier slammed down with all of his might, earning a sickening crunch for his efforts. He continued to stare at the other soldier for a moment, then spoke. "I didn't find anything in here. Certainly nothing worth ten credits." He then turned and left, and the other two soldiers laughed as they followed him. The third stayed for a moment, staring down at the salarian, then turned to follow as well.

As soon as they'd left, Liara heaved a sigh of relief, fear, and trauma. All of her emotions rolled together and boiled beneath her skin. Originally she had thought to access the Prothean archives, to stop Cerberus in their tracks, but that had also been Dr. Green's first destination, and Cerberus had been with her. Green, she burned with rage to have been outplayed so easily. Now, instead of saving the precious Prothean data, she had been spending hours moving around the ventilation systems. Soon in she'd had to use a biotic barrier between herself and the floor of the ventilation shaft so as to avoid making noise when she moved, and the constant upkeep was taking its toll.

She moved forward again, past the poor salarian below, and after a few minutes came upon her destination. The communications center had been the biggest target for the Cerberus strike teams when they'd arrived, and the chance of calling for help had quickly dropped to zero. Now, however, only three Cerberus solider stood guard over the consoles. Liara knew her only hope of getting out of this alive was to re-establish a connection, and send a message burst for help. She checked her pistol, slowly let the biotic field beneath her dissipate, took a deep breath, and kicked out the grate below her to drop into the room below, the familiar purple corona of energy already flaring to life around her. Her pistol sang out as she ripped away one soldier's weapon while locking the other in a stasis field. The third tried to riddle her with bullets, but she danced backwards, backflipping at the end and pulling one of the other soldiers into his teammate's line of fire with her biotics. The body was perforated, blood staining her jacket as she shoved his corpse away. She was just in time to dodge the second hail of gunfire, and respond by ripping a traffic scanning terminal out of the wall and slamming it into her attacker.

She ensured all three targets were dead, then crossed to the nearest comm terminal. The moment she lifted the lockdown, she prepared her red flag beacon, but it was overwritten when a priority message came through on the official Alliance channels. She read it three times, though she knew she only had to see it once to know the implications.

"By the Goddess..." she whispered.

* * *

John heard the alarm klaxons throughout the base before the loud voices or the pounding on the door, but it was the entire building shaking that jarred him from sleep. For a split second, he'd been walking through a field of wheat at sunset, the radiant reds, oranges, and dulled purples of their star pouring over the field as it swayed in the breeze. Somewhere over his shoulder, he could hear his brother calling out for him...

John's eyes snapped open, and he leaned forward, rubbing his neck, though he stopped when he heard the familiar voice beyond the locked door.

"I'm sorry, sir, but without direct authorization from the presiding members of the Disciplinary Council, I'm unable t-"

"Let me tell you what you're _unable_ to do, sergeant." David Anderson's voice was harsh, authoritative, and...scared?...all at once. "You're _unable_ to eat, sleep, or shit without my say-so. You're _unable_ to call the shots on a recon op, or even be part of a recon op, unless I OK it first. And in a few seconds, sergeant, you're going to be _unable_ to eat without a straw, if you don't open this goddamned door."

"We have our orders, sir," the sergeant replied, and John cringed, waiting for what would happen next. "Not even an attack on the building couls sto-ugh!" John nodded to himself as the sounds of punches and scuffling cut off the rest of the sergeant's sentence, and a moment later the door locks retreated, the heavy door swinging inward and opening up to the hall beyond.

"Shepard," Anderson called to him, a trickle of blood making its way from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. "You look like you just woke up, you alright?"

"I did just wake up," John replied, reaching down to take the sergeant's pistol and tucking it behind the waistband of his slacks. "Thanks for the daring rescue. We gonna run from the Alliance like we ran from the Council?"

Anderson motioned for John to follow him, rushing down the corridor, his pistol in hand. "I'm hoping that by the time anyone notices what we're doing here, no one will care anymore."

"What do you m-" the building shook again, and John lost his footing, skidding out into a corridor. He leaped to his feet, before being stunned at the sight out of the plate glass window. He could see six of them, descending on the city, destroying buildings and razing entire blocks to ash with their cannons. "When..." was all he could mouth, before Anderson clamped a hand on his shoulder.

"This way, come on!" The building shook again, jarring John back to the here and now, and he took a firmer grip on his pistol and followed the man through corridors of wrent steel and explosive fires. "Two hours ago," Anderson called out over his shoulder, "a priority comm went out across all channels. Thousands of batarian refugees showed up on the Citadel's doorstep, all seeking asylum. And all describing a Reaper attack."

"God damn it," John whispered. "And once they had control of the batarian home system..."

"They had the mass relay you denied them," Anderson finished for him. "The reports have been coming in, they're fanning out, getting the war started in earnest. But they know their enemy, Shepard. And they know what's important to him." He paused for a moment, grunting as he pushed a heavy steel beam out of the way. He turned back to John. "They hit Earth first, stormed through the relay like demons out of hell. Hackett and the fleet tried to hold them off, hell they're still fighting up there, but it's a losing battle."

"Then we need to get help from the other species, from the Council, anyone who will listen."

"Agreed," Anderson added. "That's why Kaiden, Vega, and Tali are getting the Normandy and meeting us up ahead at a rendezvous point. We'll get you to the Cit-ah!" The door Anderson had been trying to open suddenly snapped wide apart, allowing a group of husks to charge forward in attack. John swept his pistol over the field, picking off targets as they moved forward. Anderson added his own bullets to the assault, and they moved past their fallen enemies, into a stairwell that wound ever downwards, eventually opening out onto an outdoor landing. They crossed a rooftop garden to a second adjoining building, then slipped down the access ladders to cross into what had been a memorial park for those lost at Shan'xi. What was once a place of happiness and quiet had, in an instant, become engulfed in flames and ruin. Fires burned wildly throughout the once-beautiful foliage, and the earth was rent asunder, a large crater giving testament to the passing of a Reaper directly through the park not long before. John looked out on the chaos, his mouth agape.

"We...we should have been more prepared..." he said, half to himself.

"You did everything you could, Shepard," Anderson replied. "We both knew this fight was going to be messy. Against things like the Reapers...there's no way to win clean. Shepard," the other man grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face him. "Take the Normandy, get help for Earth. The galaxy thinks you're the only person who can stop the Reapers, prove them right." As he finished, the Normandy slid tightly around the edge of the Alliance headquarters, banking sharply and coming to a hover above the burning fields just ahead of them. The boarding ramp descended, with Tali, Kaidan, and Vega descending, weapons-drawn.

"What about you?" John yelled over the engines. "You're the Councilor for humanity, I need your support with the others." Anderson shook his head.

"My place is here, Shepard. Earth needs us, Hackett and I, coordinating the resistance movement. Take the Normandy, get Earth the help she needs, no matter the cost, and we'll make sure there's still an Earth to come back to." John stared across at the other man, at a loss for words.

"Sir, I don't-"

"You're ready for this, Shepard," Anderson said, his tone stern, but his face reassuring. "Be the hero. Save the galaxy; just one more time."

" _Hombre_ , it's now or never!" Vega called out, raining gunfire down on an approaching pack of husks. John watched the monstrosities fall in the hail of bullets, then turned back to Anderson, nodding before making his way for the ramp.

He leaped up onto it, taking hold of Tali's hand for support, and as the Normandy began to lift off, he watched as Anderson took off through the burning park, towards an Alliance shuttle that had just touched down to retrieve him. The boarding ramp closed with a resounding thud, obscuring his vision of the ground below, and for a moment the only sound was his own voice, and the reloading of weapons from his squad. He let the silence linger, and in the darkness of the now-sealed bay, he felt her hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

"We're breaking atmosphere now, Commander," Joker's voice came over the comm systems. "Where are we heading?"

John took a deep, quiet breath. Everything that had happened since he'd encountered the beacon on Eden Prime had led him here, to this moment, and the war against extinction that had just begun. He let it go, letting Commander Shepard take over, putting on his battle-hardened mindset once more.

"Get us to the Citadel," he called as he turned to walk across the cargo bay and towards the lift. "Earth's going to need all the help it can get; we may as well start at the top."


	5. The Blink of an Eye

*****Author's Note*****  
Hello again, everyone! For those who didn't see my profile update,  
I lost the file for this chapter to a power outtage about halfway through  
writing, so if there are any inconsistencies here let me know, my notes  
are long gone and I rewrote from memory, haha.  
One of the biggest issues with the closing work here is keeping all the  
different plate spinning with regards to the multiple character stories and  
PoV's to write from. You should see the plot web I've got going, I think I'd  
make a spider jealous! Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**The Blink of an Eye**

John stared out the viewport of the small starboard conference room, watching as the small blue marble his people called home grew spots of orange and red as it shrank away into the distance. He burned with rage, and no small amount of helplessness. This was it, the hour of truth, and instead of fighting the Reapers back, he was in a ship fleeing the scene like some deserter. Anderson had ordered him to go, he tried to tell himself, but it had as little effect as the last dozen times.

"Commander?"

John turned around to see Lieutenant Vega standing in the entryway to the conference room. His gray t-shirt with the Alliance ensignia was faded and worn, and his dark blue field greaves contrasted with it, their metal plating still protecting him from the rescue op he'd just come from. "Not anymore," he called out, turning to face the man fully.

"Bullshit," James replied, walking into the room. "You're still a Commander to me, and to everyone whose opinion matters. That means you're the CO of this ship, and it means you can tell me why the hell we're running away from this fight!" He paused for a moment. "Um...sir."

"Believe me, I've got the same question," John said, turning back to look at the planet they so quickly ran from. "Orders are orders, as much as I dislike them."

"But we can't jus-"

"Yes we can," John replied, a harsh stern tone entering his voice. "You think I left because I wanted to, Vega?" He crossed the distance between them, pointing at the small orb fading away through the viewport. "You think I want to be anywhere in the galaxy right now rather than back on that planet, fighting side by side with the people about to die to protect it?"

Vega said nothing, his expression pure stone.

"That's what I thought," John finished venomously. "We have our orders, Lieutenant. We're going to support this war the only way we can; by finding others to help us fight."

"Then you'll probably want these back," Vega said quietly, and John turned just in time to catch the dog tags that had been flung in his direction. "I seem to remember you had some trouble proving you were really you awhile back; so I snagged those from your quarters before we went for the Normandy."

John looked down at the small metal plates in his hand, then squeezed closed around them. "Thanks, James."

Vega snapped him a sharp salute. "Sir," he said, before turning to leave. John continued to look down at his closed fist, feeling the metal edge of the tags press into the skin of his hand. He'd stopped Saren, fought of the whole of the Collectors; did he have it in him to stand up to the whole of the Reaper armada as well?

He turned back to look out the viewport. The Earth was little more than a blue dot in the inky black, but he stared at it regardless. Millions would die before this war was over, of that he was sure. You can't save everyone, not when they come. He remembered Jacob saying to him over their comm channel as the entire Collector base crumbled around him. But don't let them win. At any cost.

" _Shepard_ ," EDI's synthetic voice filtered into the deck. " _You have a priority communication from Admiral Hackett in the War Room._ "

John snapped back to the present, his will steeled by the past. "Fire it up," he called back, and rushed from the room towards the lift. He remembered the fallen, let their sacrifice push him to be better than even he thought he could. He wanted to save them all; the Mindoir colonists, the Collector victims, the people now fighting for the survival of the human race back on Earth. He couldn't do it, he knew that. But he could damn well try.

* * *

The haptic interface keys bobbed up and down as her fingers sped over them, faster than the eye could maintain a watch on, faster than any human would be able to move. From somewhere outside the facility, gunfire errupted, and in a tenth of a second she had stopped typing, whipped her heavy pistol out, and trained it on the door to the data core. She stared daggers at it as she stepped slowly away from the terminal, the data transfer having been started, and moved toward the door. She stepped over the bodies of the two technicians she'd neutralized upon entering the restricted area, and stood flush against the wall, waiting for the door. Silence came from the other side, but she waited. Watching, scanning, listening.

In a flash the secured door blew back in on itself, accompanied by a hail of gunfire. Three Alliance security personnel rushed forward, and she sprang into action. She landed a devastating blow on one man's spine, crumpling him instantly. The second trained his weapon on her, but she ducked away faster than his eye could track, and he fired half a clip into the metal wall behind her as she kicked forward, shattering his kneecap. He fell while screaming, and she whipped around behind him, holding up his body as the third man fired into it, silencing the screams of his comrade. The machinery inside her stressed to their max, and she launched the corpse forward, knocking the third man off his feet. She crossed to him and placed two shots cleanly through his skull.

She spared him not a glance as she turned to the open doorway, raising her pistol to fire at another security team coming to lock down the archive. In the small alcove sat the terminal, quietly processing the archives away into the neural chip in her skull, and erasing the local copy. She would be the only active connection accessing this data, ensuring that the Illusive Man alone held the keys to the Reapers' subjugation. The terminal glowed its orange light, displaying file transfer details to no one as, yards away, Dr. Green continued to fire upon Alliance personnel.

_Active Connections: 2._

* * *

"I guess I just figured we'd have had some kind of advance notice before this kind of thing happened, you know?" Amys glanced at Kal out of the side of her visor and saw him nodding silently in agreement as their small scout ship drifted away from the mass relay in the Tikkun system. She was nervous about the whole thing, he knew she was nervous, and she knew that he knew that she was nervous...so naturally she refused to bring up her nervousness to him. That seemed to suit him fine; he'd been quiet since they'd left Eden Prime. She couldn't blame him though, this was the largest event in their peoples' history since the flight from Rannoch. And now, a bitter homecoming.

" _It does seem sudden,_ " Tali's voice called back from her comm link in her omni-tool. " _It also seems reckless. I don't like this at all._ "

"Right?" Amys replied, grateful for someone to voice her own concerns. "I mean, I want to have our home back as much as any other quarian, but shouldn't there have been a clan meeting about this at the very least? What about stategic councils? A public forum for debate? It seems like this was all rushed, and rushed makes me...wary."

" _I agree,_ " Tali replied quietly. An air of silent worry hung in the balance, then Kal spoke.

"What does Shepard think of all this?" Amys smiled behind her visor. He'd never reveal it, but sometimes she thought Kal was more a fan of Shepard's than Tali was. He practically memorized the human's service record after the incident on Haestrom, and never resisted an opportunity to bring the fellow soldier into a discussion, or quote one of his combat tactics as inspiration for his own. Still, she supposed, he could have worse role models.

" _We haven't spoken about it yet,_ " came Tali's nervous response.

"What?" Kal burst out. "Keelah, Tali, you should be halfway to the Fleet right now; what are you up to that's more important than this?!"

There was a soft pause before she spoke again. " _The Reapers have arrived, and they assaulted Earth. John...he's been sent to find help. From the Council, the other races...anyone who will offer it. I can't put this on his shoulders too, he has too much already._ "

"But Tali..." Amys said quietly, "it's home..."

" _I know that,_ " she replied painfully. " _But I have two of them, and it's a difficult situation to be in._ " Another long pause hung in the balance between them, and then she spoke once more. " _I... I have to go. I'll be back in touch as soon as I can. Please be safe, you two._ "

"Likewise," Amys replied, and the comm line went out.

Kal shook his head softly as they pulled the shuttle into the pre-designated docking bay. "Without her, without Shepard...we're at a massive disadvantage; and the fighting hasn't even truly started yet."

"She'll be here," Amys said, almost too softly to be heard. She wondered if Kal believed her; hell, she wondered if she believed herself. She looked out the viewport towards the brown planet in the near distance as the mechanical clamps reached out slowly into space, attaching themselves to their vessel and pulling it back into the airlock before sealing them tightly inside the Neema. Moments later, they stepped out of the decontamination pass-through and into the beating heart of the vessel. It was unlike anything Amys had ever seen, quarians rushing this way or that, all in a hurry. Just days ago this place would have been quiet, subdued, full of small groups of teenagers laughing, children playing with communal toys, and lovers searching desperately for any alcove out of sight. Now...it was chaos. " _Keelah_..." she whispered.

"Yea..."Kal trailed off, in a similar state of shock.

"Kal'Reegar?" A young quarian with the _realk_ of Clan Gerrel approached them with quick steps. "Admiral Han sent me to bring you to him immediately; he says its important."

The pair looked at each other, and Amys nodded slightly to him before he followed the younger quarian away. Amys wound her way through the throngs of bustling people towards a communal observation deck, and looked down upon the planet her people had waited so long to return to. Here they were, on the brink of a second war with the geth, the unsteady calm before the storm spread out before her. The fear crept into her, threatened to consume her, and she pushed it away. She knew who she was, and what clan's patterns she wore over her helmet. Tali'Zorah or no, she would stand strong agaisnt their enemy.

She steeled herself for the fire to come, and hoped the geth were doing the same.

* * *

"I'm not saying you're wrong," the older turian grumbled as they left the conference room, "I'm just saying that work like that has to wait to be handled until after we deal with the current threat."

"I know that, General," Garrus said calmly as he walked beside the man. He made a gesture with his hand as he spoke, and scratched the skin of his wrist against the damned medal again. They'd given it to him for his 'outstanding service in the interests of protecting a galactic ally.' In truth it was more of a 'thank you for your information about the Reapers, and we need you promoted to Commander so you can attend our meetings.' He knew it didn't carry any weight, and he hated it even more for that. "What I'm saying is that research could be just the thing that _does_ deal with the current threat. The humans are doing the same thing on their Mars ba-"

"Well then I say let them, Vakarian." The general stopped and turned to face him fully now. "We have a war to fight right here, right outside these doors. Reapers are killing our people all across Palaven, and we've poured all of our resources into defending the capital city. We have refugee convoys, military requisitions, and corpse disposal issues all to deal with, and you want me to allocate our time and resources to poking at Reaper bits in a lab?" A long pause passed between them.

"Sir, the war council brought me on board to recommend courses of action that would lead to a workable strategy against the Reapers."

"Then stop pestering me with ideas like this and start doing it, boy. Next meeting is in two days, and we need better answers by then." The general turned away, moving further up the corridor and leaving Garrus to stare at his retreating form. Garrus swore under his breath before turning away down a side corridor and spending a few minutes winding his way through the halls of the military headquarters. He'd only been here a few weeks, but already knew the way from memory, and so he looked through the incoming reports on his datapad as he walked. It was grim; Sovereign and Harbinger had promised an overwhelming assault on their galaxy, and they were living up to it. Casualties were already in the millions, and steadily rising.

He sighed, turning the datapad off and just watching the tiles in the floor pass underfoot as he continued to walk. They had pieces of Sovereign, they had intel on Harbinger, everything he had been able to get from Shepard and EDI, freely given. And yet high command were acting exactly as the Council had, denying the necessity of the situation despite it already raising a hand to crush them. He finally approached the door to his quarters, and it slid open with a soft _hiss_ when he activated the lock. He stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him when he saw her.

She had her back to him, facing out towards a large panoramic window that overlooked the wide memorial park in the center of the hollow rectangle that was military headquarters. Her body was bare, and sweat glistened across her soft tan skin. The soft morning light from Trebia filtered in through the transparent window and shone upon her, accentuating her every movement as her arms and legs sliced through starlight, disrupting the small dust motes than hung therein. Her movements were slow, as though she were in a dream, yet precise, and the implication that she could amplify her speed greatly at a moment's notice hung about her twisting form. Motion after motion she performed, and after a long moment, she finished the routing, turning in place to greet him with a smile. He could see the sweat beading on her skin, and he could smell the pheremones she released. It was a sensory overload that threatened to make him forget all about the Reapers, and anything else for that matter. She did have that effect. He smiled back at her, gathering his wits once more.

"You don't seem to mind when I watch you."

"You don't seem to mind what you see," she shot back, before crossing the room to stand right before him. "I'm pretty sure most turians would remark negatively about how soft I look." She glanced down at herself with mock skepticism, then back up into his eyes with a smile.

"I'm not most turians," he replied with a smile of his own, reaching out a finger to brush against her cheek. It traced her jawline and down towards her collarbone, then stopped to linger on the trio of small puncture wounds there. He instantly felt a pang of regret, and wondered if he'd ever get to a point where he didn't feel it, no matter how often she told him he shouldn't. He'd gotten overwhelmed, lost in the heat of it all, especially after having survived the Collector base and escaped an impossible situation. It had lasted hours, and somewhere in the middle of the haze of passion he had marked her as his. She had shrieked as if stabbed at first, and then laughed when he'd tried to explain what happened while stumbling over an apology the whole time. She had understood, and even liked the gesture. He shook his head softly as he brushed his finger over them, and she laughed softly, reaching up with both of her hands to take his one.

"I like them," she said quietly.

"I know," he replied, and it was the truth. He'd caught her a few times lost in thought while reading a book, watching a vid, or looking out the viewport; her fingers finding their way subconsciously up to the marks and caressing them gently.

"You're worried," she said, her expression falling a bit as she looked up into his eyes. "but not about this. Bad news?"

He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "It's Shepard and the Council all over again. I keep trying to tell them we should be collaborating with Liara and the humans at the Mars research station, they keep saying it's not a 'wartime necessity'." He let his eyes leave the marks on her collarbone and meet hers again. "I know they didn't mean to give me any real power when they stuck a medal and a promotion on my record, but making it this obvious is just sad." He tacked a small smile onto his words to soften their blow, and she returned it. She took a step closer, reaching her hands up through the bottom of his dress shirt as she did, and a chill ran through him. "You'd think," he began, trying to keep his head clear as she caressed his torso, "they'd be a little more welcoming of a hero coming home."

"They'll listen eventually; once they realize the time's passed for throwing exploding things at the problem until it goes away. As far as your hero's welcome...maybe this isn't home," she whispered, closing the rest of the gap between him and putting her head on his chest. Her arms wrapped around him, and her hands began kneading knots in his back that he wasn't even aware had been there. "Maybe home is out there, screaming through the stars and taking the fight to the Reapers any way it can."

Garrus closed his eyes, smiling as he spoke. "Kasumi, is that the sound of settling down I hear?" She chuckled against his chest, then shivered as he traced the outline of her spine in her bare skin with a finger.

"Maybe just a little," she relented. Her eyes rose up to his again, and he looked down into their brown depths. "Might have found something worth sticking around for." She stood up on her toes, reaching up to kiss the metal plating on the side of his face, the reward he'd earned for keeping her safe on Omega what seemed so long ago now. He leaned gently into the gesture, and she whispered into his ear "Though I might be starting to forget what it is I'm sticking around here for."

"Well, can't have that," he replied, stepping backwards out of her embrace to lock the door behind him. He tapped a console on the wall, and the entire panoramic viewport tinted at once, casting the room into a dim light. He pulled his shirt the rest of the way over his head, rushing forward to scoop her into a tight embrace. His eyes caught the markings again as he felt the beat of her heart quicken, her chest pressed against his own, and she grabbed his jaw softly with a free hand, turning his face to look at her.

"Come on, if you're lucky I might let you add a matching set on the other side." She grinned wickedly, and he chuckled, lifting her up effortlessly and carrying her over to the bed. He could feel her sweat mixing with his own across his chest, and knew the rash it would leave in a few hours. But for who she was, for what she did for him, the price was well worth it. Any price was worth it.

* * *

"Shepard..." Kaian's tone was uncertain, but the question was apparent.

"Yea?" John replied, only halfway paying attention to Kaidan's words as the tramway began its journey across from the waypoint station to the archive proper. John was checking the viewports for threats, making a spot-check of the carriage's integrity, looking for any signs of damage in the skirmish with Cerberus they'd just had outside.

"I mean well, and I trust you, so I'm only going to ask this once." The serious tone brough John back to the moment, and he met the other man's gaze. "Do you know why Cerberus are here?"

John looked over to Tali for confirmation that what he was hearing was as incredulous as it sounded, but she stood in a far corner of the car, looking out one of the viewports at the martian landscape around them and occasionally checking her omni-tool. Something was off between them, and he didn't know what. Ever since they'd left Earth, she'd been...keeping her distance? No, that wasn't the word for it. She still shared the captain's quarters with him, still held him just as tightly at night, and still giggled when he kissed her on the nose when she woke up. She was just acting...different, he supposed was the only word for it. Maybe she was sick? He shrugged slightly, having only that to chalk it up to, and mentally noted to talk to her after they were done here; if he was going to be out here fighting for the whole galaxy, he needed her by his side. He turned back to Kaidan.

"I understand why you'd say that, and I'm not offended by it; it makes sense to ask. But I promise you, Kaidan, I have no idea what Cerberus is doing here. I know some of the pieces of Sovereign ended up here, some collaboration with turian military research, the same kind of collaboration that gave us the SR-1. Could be they're after that, seems most likely."

Kaidan nodded. "Yea, had thought about that myself. Hearing you say it is all I need, Shepard. Let's stop these bastards before they get what they came for."

John returned the gesture, then checked their progress. They'd come about half a mile in the transport car, had about another half mile to go. He looked back to Tali before crossing to her and leaning in close. She looked up at him confused. "Everything alright?" she asked quietly.

"No fair, I was about to ask you that," he replied with a soft smile. "Something's wrong; I don't have to have a quarian emotional bond to tell. If you think I'll be upset..." She looked away for a moment, then back to him.

"No, that's not it, _saera_ " she said. "You just...have a lot to worry about right now, and I didn't want t-"

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching in and taking her hands in his own. "The top five slots in John Shepard's 'List of Things I Worry About' all have your name in them. If something's wrong, I need you to tell me."

She laughed softly, but looked away once more. After a long moment, she nodded, meeting his gaze once more. "Alright, but after we're done here, ok?"

"Deal," he said with a smile, and squeezed her hands. She returned the gesture with a small tilt of her head, and he turned away, readying his rifle as the car slowed to a halt.

"Looks like they're waiting!" Kaidan called out over his shoulder before unleashing a biotic storm over the barrier between them and the dozen or so Cerberus troops rushing forward to take up positions.

"Then let's give 'em hell," John called back, sliding into cover before firing.


	6. The Cost of a Promise

***Author's Note***  
Hello again, everyone! Man, that was a much bigger time lapse  
between chapters than I wanted. I'm picking up the pace as much as  
possible, believe me. Never fear about another months-long break, though,  
FitS will be finished ASAP; I'd never let my baby die off like that, haha.

One of the things I really wanted to focus on for FitS while making sure  
everyone got their due screen time, was to make Kashon a satisfying villain,  
someone whom the reader can legitimately see as both a threat to Shepard,  
as well as a threat to themselves and the galaxy as a whole. I like the idea  
that he's intelligent, but incredibly egotistical, and a bit insane as well. He's  
a purely OC character, and I know the risk I'm taking in using one of those,  
but I think it'll be a good addition to the story, "My Mass Effect" and all. :P

As always, thanks to everyone reading, favoriting, and PMing, it means  
so much to me!

* * *

**The Cost of a Promise**

"Stay tight," John whispered, the command being amplified in the comm earpieces of his squad-mates' helmets; the oxygen had been vented from the station as part of Cerberus's initial assault. Liara, Kaidan, and Tali flanked him, eyes scanning intently even though the only area they currently walked through was an empty hallway. They had chewed through wave after wave of Cerberus troops; maybe one too many John thought as he rolled his shoulder to ease the pain of the knife wound he'd taken. Well, he thought to himself as they moved together, at least he was keeping Chakwas busy.

"Shepard," Liara called out softly, "this is the entrance to the central archive's mainframe. It's locked down tight; my standard administrator access won't be able to crack it."

"I've got it," Tali replied, stepping up to the control panel while Liara crossed over to watch her back with John.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" John asked her as his eyes continued to scan for threats.

"Yes," she replied. "Whoever is in there with the data, likely Dr. Green, has gone to great lengths to see us locked out permanently, or ideally, killed long before we reached her. The data in there has to be incredibly valuable to Cerberus; there's no way they'd risk assaulting an Alliance research station this close to Earth unless they knew exactly what...what to..." she trailed off as she met John's gaze, and the apologetic smile that accompanied it. "That...isn't what you were thinking, is it?"

"Nope," he said, looking back down the hallway for any signs of an attack. "Though that doesn't mean anything you said was wrong. I was going to make a corny joke about visiting right when the weather turns sour." He turned his wrist to look at the chrono; they had about thirty minutes to get this data and make it out of the facility, and he needed Vega to be there with the shuttle.

"Whew, thank god you got it out there, Shepard. I'm not sure how we'd have lived without hearing a joke that good," Kaidan quipped from his position near the connecting hallway.

"Is that a little jealousy I hear?" John shot back at him, and the other man chuckled. He turned back to Liara. "So what does Cerberus want in there?"

She shook her head. "Not sure, but whatever it is, I guarantee it shouldn't be in Cerberus' hands." The sound of the bulkhead door sliding apart behind them drew all of their attention, and the team of four stepped cautiously into the empty room. It was circular, with rows of archive files lining the curved walls, and readout stations, ten of them in total, comprising an internal ring. In the very center of the room, a main terminal and comms console stood quietly.

"Kaidan, Liara, check the readout stations, make sure we're alone. Tali, you're with me at the console." His team nodded their assent, and split up to slowly move around the left and right curves of the room, weapons drawn and at the ready. John and Tali moved forward, and as they began to access the main console, a holographic projection sprang to life above the comm terminal.

" _Oh, looks like the cavalry's here."_ The man in the holographic image was thin, in a sharp suit, and with dark hair slicked back. His eyes were piercing and intelligent, constantly sizing up John as they met each other's gaze. He held his hands up in mock surrender " _Is...is this the part where I surrender and beg for mercy?_ "

"Depends," John replied. "Who are you?"

The man's chuckle was quiet and reserved, the laugh of a man who knew the question would be asked, and had already planned out the response several moves prior. He continued with his patronizing tone, a great man humoring a curious child. " _Oh we've met before, Command-ah! Must remember, you don't hold that rank anymore, do you? How embarrassing that must be. Regardless, you know my name, just as any faithful Cerberus patriot does."_

John shook his head. "I don't know what stunt you're trying to pull, but you're not the Illusive Man, pal. I've seen him more times than I'd like to admit to, enough to recognize the man for sure."

" _Old faces, old times,"_ the man replied as he looked down at his datapad, only half-heartedly interested in the conversation. " _Jack Harper was ambitious, but he didn't have...vision?"_ the man laughed out loud at his own joke, then realized no one else was laughing with him. " _You...you know, because of the eyes? His...? Oh come on, that was at least worth a chuckle."_ The man shook his head as he looked back down at the datapad. " _Believe my identity or don't, it won't matter in the end. But I can assure you of one thing: Cerberus has undergone a...cleansing, of sorts. Only the truly loyal remain, Shepard. The Reapers aren't the end game, they're just the final piece of the puzzle. You would do we-"_

"Look, I don't care who you are," John interrupted, allowing his irritation to shine through. "You send a Cerberus team to slaughter innocent Alliance researches, hack a secure archive to steal military secrets, and expect to have a civil conversation with me? Expect me to play nice with you while you crack jokes after the base full of bodies I just led my team through to get here? You must not know me very well at all. Because I'll tell you how this ends. I'll find you, I'll beat you, and I'll bring you back to sit in a cell for the rest of your life. No glorious plan, no reforged Cerberus, none of it. Just four walls and decades to chew on your defeat." He paused for a moment, staring into the sharp eyes of the man who had stopped looking down at his datapad, and now instead stared right into John's face. "We done here?"

The man's chuckle was quiet, yet haunting. " _But I_ do _know you, Commander. I know your history, your desires, your fears. I know your weaknesses, chiefly your reliance on others to maintain your mythic status among the population of the galaxy. I know every piece of alien filth you associate with, every concession you've made, unbidden, on humanity's behalf. I know who you take to bed every night, and where your loyalties truly lie in the light of day."_ The man's face was contorted in cold rage now, his words being spat forth from his mouth as if they tasted rotten. " _You cherish your alien mongrels and your traitorous human allies, and I will take them from you. One by one, you will watch, helpless, as I cut them down before you. I will unravel you until you are little more than a threadbare mockery of what you once were. And slowly, surely, humanity will see their faith has been misplaced, that only humanity, united, can save this galaxy from the dreadnaughts that come for it."_ The man looked down at the datapad, smiled, then tossed it behind him onto an unseen surface before looking back at John, gesturing to Tali. " _And when it's all over, when Cerberus has fulfilled its purpose and guarded humanity from this apocalypse, you will watch as the very people you tried to convince into your way of thinking tear her apart limb from limb, her blood spilled before you a testament to my power."_ The man took a deep breath, exhaled, then allowed his countenance to relax. " _This is the Illusive Man, Shepard. This is humanity's greatest champion. This is Cerberus. And_ this," he said, reaching down to tap at his omni-tool, " _is a promise kept."_ The man's gaze, and his insufferable grin, met John's once more for a split-second before the holographic image cut out. John reached out to get the signal back, but was alerted at the sounds of gunfire behind him.

He spun on the spot, in time to see Kaidan's body slammed into the wall of the archive center. Doctor Green sped past his falling form, racing for the entrance as he clambered to his feet. Liara was in hot pursuit, flinging a stasis field toward the woman, who batted it away as easily as a child brushing away a fly. John lunged forward, catching up with the others in a few strides as they all struggled to keep pace with the fleeing doctor.

"She's got the files!" Liara called out to him. "Prothean research data concerning the Reapers. I don't know what Cerberus wants with it, but she erased the local file. The only copy is on her!" Gunfire rained down on them, and klaxons began to blare out across the station, signaling the imminent dust storm that rolled across the open plains outside towards the research station. They chased Green through the station, vaulting over storage containers and rounding corners quickly, just to be forced into diving out of the way of gunfire. Her precision was impeccable, and she seemed completely unaffected by the blasting winds as she slipped to the exterior of the research station. They followed her up to the top of the station, and John's heart sank as he saw the Cerberus shuttle hovering expectantly. The side of the shuttle hung open, and as soon as John's team crested the rooftop's edge, they opened fire. A rain of bullets screamed toward them, and Liara cried out as she slammed her hands forward, projecting a biotic barrier to block the rounds. "Go!" she yelled, and John rushed forward to give chase, with Kaiden and Tali close behind.

"Vega!" Shepard called out, "Cerberus is taking the files we need, where the hell are you?!"

" _Closer than you think, Commander!_ " he called out in reply. The Kodiak came screaming across John's field of view, and he had just a second to slide to a stop as the shuttle careened downward onto the rooftop, slamming into the waiting Cerberus craft and sending it spinning away from Dr. Green. The shuttle slid across the rooftop, flew across the gap between their building and the next, and slammed into the main communications array, exploding into a fiery ball that consumed the array, metal twisting and collapsing into the inferno below. The Kodiak slid across the rooftop before crashing into the concrete housing for the station's main oxygen generators. The side hatch flew open, and James hurled a belt of concussive grenades out of it, landing the group right at the feet of doctor Green.

The pulse that went out knocked everyone off of their feet, and slammed the doctor into the same cement housing with which the Kodiak had collided. John saw stars through the visor of his helmet, and once they were replaced with the red, tumultuous skies of Mars, he sat up, seeing Kaidan approaching Green's crumpled body. "Vega! Get the shuttle ready to go, once we find where Green's keeping the data we need to be out of here ASAP."

" _You got it, commander_ ," Vega called out, and John saw him climb back into the shuttle, the engines roaring to life once more after the minimal damage from the collision.

" _Shepard..."_ Kaidan called out, and John turned to look in his direction. " _Something's wrong with doc-"_ His words were cut off as Green sprang back to her feet, grabbing him by the throat as she did. She lifted him a clear foot off of the ground, and then slammed him down into it with enough force to crack the roof of the building. She pulled her hand back, balling it into a fist, and slammed it forward twice more into his face before John started firing. The bullets slammed into Green...and did nothing, as she turned her gaze on him and began to charge. He kept unloading his clip into her, now seeing the missing flesh of her face replaced with a metal interior. As she closed with him, he saw Tali rush past him, her arm outstretched, her hand encompassed with the orange glow of her omni-tool. Her hand caught Green's cheek, and the woman seized up, shaking uncontrollably before crumpling to the ground once more.

"Get Kaidan!" Tali yelled, "I'll get the data!"

John nodded, rushing forward and sliding on his knees to assess Kaidan's situation. He hadn't taken much in the way of field triage, but even he could tell Kaidan was easily in critical condition. His helmet's visor had shattered inward, and the secondary safety screen had slid into place, it's translucent and slightly scratched surface protecting him from the vacuum of the atmosphere. John reached down, scooping him out of the roof of the building as gently as possible, and rushing him to the shuttle, where Vega and Liara were waiting.

"Commander," Vega called out, "We've got incoming Reaper signals, dozens of them just in this sector. They're inbound, five minutes out, tops!" John looked back out to Tali, crouched on the rooftop next to the twisted, and occasionally twitching husk of machine that was doctor Green. He rushed back out, kneeling down next to her.

"We've got to go," he said, scanning the sky through the fringes of the dust storm that was beginning to take over the base.

"The data is here, but it's corrupted from the physical trauma to its storage center," she called back frantically. "I'm trying to salvage it, but I'm getting sixty-five, seventy percent at best. If I can just...I could still..."

"Tali, we don't have time, we've got to go, now. Just get what we can and we'll work with it. Cerberus doesn't have it; that's what's important."

Her free hand stopped frantically scrambling over her omni-tool, and she nodded. "You're right. Alright, I've got what I can, let's get out of here." She stood, and the two of them ran for the shuttle, the hatch closing as soon as they stepped aboard. They grabbed the hand-holds just in time, as the Kodiak lurched forward, screaming up into the atmosphere, away from the dust-storm that overtook the research base. John looked across the cabin to where Kaidan lay, under Liara's medical care, and he remembered the Illusive Man's promise, gripping the hand-hold tighter with rage.

He would stop Cerberus again. He would stop the Reapers. That was _his_ promise.

* * *

_The ocean stretched out before her, vast and dark. Its glassy surface distorted and reflected the pale light of three separate moons hanging in the heavens above. The gentle waves lapped against the strange beach on which she stood, rhythmic and placid all at once. Her eyes moved downward, though not of her own volition, and came to rest on the purple grains of sand beneath her feet. She knelt slowly, taking a handful of the stuff and letting it sift through her gloved hand, crashing silently back onto the beach below. She rose again, turning to take in her surroundings. For miles in every direction, the purple beach continued, streaking away from her, empty and vast._

_"_ Come, _" the voice whispered, inside her head, and she started with surprise, spinning in place to pinpoint its location. Still, wherever she looked, she stood alone on the beach. He eyes were drawn out across the ocean once more, and in the distance she thought she could barely make out a structure; some sort of tower, perhaps? She squinted at it for a long time before taking a cautious step into the lapping waves. The water was warm, welcoming, almost drawing her into its embrace more with each step she took. Perhaps if she were careful, she could see what-_

Lia'Vael's eyes snapped open, and were instantly flooded with information. Her heads-up display sprang to life once more, its familiar green hue a welcome sight after...well, after whatever it was she'd been through. She checked her suit integrity and vital sign readings, 100% and 92% respectively, and began to sit up. Dull, radiating pain emanated from her midsection, and though not enough to stop her, it was more than enough to make her groan, catching the attention of the room's other occupant.

"Well, looks like I owe Mordin a scientific text of his choice," Chakwas said as she crossed the med bay towards Lia's gurney. "I had imagined you'd be out for at least two more days." She grabbed the datapad hanging at the edge of the table and checked the information that it displayed. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Sore.." Lia groaned, holding her midsection as she swung her legs over the side of the table. The pain was constant, and annoying, but not crippling; and her suit told her that the wounds across her body were fully healed. "Thank you, for everything."

The older human woman smiled. "Not at all. You did half the work, after all. I've never seen a patient fight so hard on the operating table."

Behind her visor, her cheeks colored at the praise. She made an attempt to stand, felt a wave of dizziness, and steadied herself against the gurney as she regained her strength. To her credit, Chakwas didn't rush to help her, but simply stood and watched, datapad in hand. Lia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, stifling the pain and standing up straight. Her left hand lingered on her stomach, but she breathed deeply and paced back and forth in front of the table, feeling her way back to full control.

 _"Approaching the Widow relay now,"_ Jeff's voice called out over the comm systems. _"We're about 20 minutes out from the Citadel, Shepard. I'm broadcasting on emergency frequencies to get expedited landing clearance; no response yet."_ His voice sounded steady, but to a quarian's ears, he was trembling with fear.

"The Citadel?" Lia asked, looking over at Chakwas, who frowned at the question.

"Yes," she replied quietly, looking across the med bay to a gurney occupied by a figure Lia had not seen previously. "I'm afraid you've slept through quite a bit." The man's face was…unnervingly marred, and even to Lia's medically-inexperienced eyes it was apparent the human was in real trouble. Chakwas stared at the other patient for a long moment before seeming to snap back to her senses, placing the datapad she held back down on the hook at the edge of Lia's gurney. "Jeff will be able to get you up to speed, dear, and I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to see you up and about." She finished with a warm smile that didn't quite reach her troubled eyes, then crossed over to check the man's vitals once more.

Confused, Lia left the med bay, making her way mostly unnoticed to the helm. She smiled as she walked closer to Jeff where he sat, but she could see the tell-tale signs of stress in him that she'd learned to detect. His shoulders were slightly hunched, he leaned slightly forward over the haptic console, and most of all, she noticed with a smile, his left foot tapped unconsciously on the deck below his seat. She crossed the rest of the way over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Shepard, I know," he called out without looking over his shoulder, "I'll keep hailing for emergency docking clearance, but I can't prom-" he stopped when she squeezed his shoulder, and he turned to look before leaping up out of his seat to embrace her tightly. "God damn..."

She closed her eyes and held him close, a rush running through her at the intimate contact. After a long moment, she whispered. "I'm sorry, Jeff."

He pushed her back to hold her at arm's length. " _You're_ sorry? It's my fault, what happened. All of it. Don't you apologize for a damned thing, you understand?" She looked away from him, and he reached up a hand to turn her head back to his. "Not a thing, Lia." She nodded, and they stared into each other's eyes for a long moment before the comm terminal beeped, startling the both of them. He chuckled, then gestured to the co-pilot's chair. "Stayed empty since you've been gone."

"Good," she said, settling down into the familiar seat. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

He smiled as he took his seat and reached for the comm terminal. "Me either."

* * *

It was an ocean of lights, he thought to himself as he looked out across the wind-swept expanse beyond his open-air window. Firepits as far as the eye could see lit up the night in the area around Urdnot Hold, and thousands of krogan slept, talked, ate, and drank around them. Wrex shook his head, once more in disbelief that it had all actually happened as he'd wanted it to.

"Great Chief?" the voice called from the doorway, and Wrex hung his head, laughing as he shook it in annoyance.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" he called in response as he turned around to greet the fellow krogan.

Nakmor Jrath grinned with amusement. "At least once more, since it's mildly hilarious how much it irritates you." Wrex chuckled, and the other krogan entered, handing him a datapad.

"These the latest salvaging reports?"

"They are," Jrath said with a nod. "Operations are on schedule, our teams are about sixty percent finished salvaging what we can from the ancient clan sites."

Wrex grunted, impressed. "Moving fast, then. Good work." He flicked through the information with one large finger as he spoke. "Are we getting any pushback from the operations? I know there were no small amount of krogan unhappy at our plan to 'desecrate the ancient places'."

Jrath snorted in disgust. "Ruins, not visited by any krogan for decades. Not even a shrine to our peoples' strength and glory is immune to Aralakh's glare. Their time is past."

"Hmm, poetic," Wrex replied with a smile. "So, pushback?"

Jrath waved a hand as he moved to the window to look out over the encampments. "A handful of clan shaman have banded together to protest what we're doing. Jorgal Tarash has spoken with them, reminded them that sometimes the old ways must make way for the new."

Wrex nodded as he finished with the datapad and handed it back to Jrath. "He'd definitely be the krogan to consult about the old ways." Jrath nodded in agreement, and Wrex stepped closer before continuing. "And what of our other project?"

"I'm not sure of their progress," Jrath began slowly, "they speak in terms and phrases I couldn't begin to understand. But they remain hidden, and they tell me they're well accomodated. The younger one...he still recoils if I enter unannounced, but it's lessening with time."

Wrex nodded as he looked back out over the camps. Mordin had come to him, with Shepard's recommendation, a free pass as far as Wrex was concerned, and asked for a place to work on a cure to the genophage. Wrex had seen Maelon, the young salarian he'd previously rejected, wrapped in bandages and with horrific injuries when Shepard and the others had come back from the Weyrlock compound, and the guild had spiked inside of him. He couldn't have known the young salarian would try to go to Guld, or what the psychotic clan leader would do, but he still felt responsible. That guilt had mixed with Shepard's recommendation and pushed Wrex to help the salarians as much as he could. He'd had a lab prepared for them in a secret location only he and Jrath knew of, and the other krogan checked on them regularly. He wasn't sure how much help he was being, but he figured no news was good news, and it helped his conscience at the very least.

"So this is the destiny of our people, then?" Jrath asked quietly, staring with him across the encampments and further beyond, where the silhouettes of the starships in construction sat towering against the fading light.

"Yes," Wrex answered, Jrath's words having brought him back to the present. "With those ships, a united krogan, and a little help from some powerful friends, the krogan can be something greater than we ever were. We're the strongest, most battle-hardened species in the galaxy. I know it, you know it, every krogan down there knows it. It's time the rest of the galaxy knew it, too."

"And respected us for it," Jrath added.

"Yes. But gaining respect is just as costly as gaining clan leadership."

Jrath smiled as he continued to stare out the window. "Not without blood and pain."

"Blood and pain," Wrex agreed. "Meat and water to any true krogan." He paused for a long moment. "The galaxy will know our worth by the time this is done, Jrath. I promise it."

Jrath finally turned back to look at him. "Given your list of accomplishments lately, I believe it will." The two smiled at each other, and Jrath nodded. "Great Chief," he intoned before backing away to the door.

"Damn it, Jrath!" Wrex yelled, grabbing a nearby datapad and hurling it at the retreating krogan, who simply laughed in response as he batted it away with an arm. Nodding again, he turned and left, and Wrex shook his head once more as he turned to watch Aralakh's final rays rescind across the plains beyond. His people's time had come. _His_ time had come.

He was ready.

* * *

John stood in front of a large plate-glass window looking out over the Presidium. From his vantage point he could see across an open center area and across into lower levels on the other side of Huerta Memorial Hospital. In almost every room an injured man, woman, or child was being tended to by doctors or nurses. John shook his head; there were too many injured already, not to mention dead, and these were just the refugees. He immediately began to wonder after Anderson and Earth, and pushed the thought from his mind.

"It's troubling," called a familiar rasping voice from his side, and John started to see Thane standing where he'd just been looking a moment before. "but Jacob was correct, Shepard. You can't save them all; it is an eventuality we will all have to accept before this war is over."

"Agreed, though it doesn't put us in a very good starting place, being sucker-punched like this."

"Mmm," the drell grunted in agreement. "That's true. Though," he turned to fully face John, "did you ever expect the Reapers to play fair, or make this war at all easy on us?"

"I suppose not," John replied, extending a hand to Thane, who shook it immediately. "Good to see you again, Thane. Can't say I'm surprised to see you on the Citadel, but here?"

"Kepral's," Thane replied without missing a beat. "It's...advancing...faster than I'd like. Chakwas put me in contact with Councilor Anderson, who offered to help me seek assistance here. He's a generous man, for having so much to deal with, although I have not seen him since taking up residence."

"Last I saw him, he was making a beeline away from the Normandy to find a resistance group and fight the Reapers invading Earth."

"Ah, he returned to defend his home? May Amonkira guide his path."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate any assistance, divine or otherwise. Your illness, is there anything I can do to help?"

Thane chuckled, and it turned into a light coughing. "I told you when we first met that I am dying, and here you are still trying to cheat death on my behalf. I am...satisfied...with my life, Shepard, such that is has been. The one true regret I had, you gave me a chance to rectify. I daresay you've done all you can." The drell smiled, and John nodded, about to speak again when his omni-tool's communication device chimed. "I'll let you get back to saving the galaxy," Thane said, taking a few steps back before turning. "and I'll keep an eye on Kaidan for you, let you know when anything changes."

"Thanks, Thane," John called out, watching the drell wave a had in response as he walked away. Looking back down, he tapped the command to receive the call, and his earpiece buzzed to life.

" _Shepard_ ," Udina's voice called through the device, harsher than usual. " _The Council had requested your presence immediately to speak about the Reapers. This is our chance to get help for Earth, and I need you to be there._ "

"Understood," John replied, his blood already beginning to boil at the thought of what the Council would say this time to absolve themselves of guilt. "I'm on my now." The channel cut out, and John spared a final glance in the direction of Kaidan's room before stepping towards the lift. Minutes later, he arrived at the Council's chambers, where Udina stood waiting for him along with the other three familiar faces.

"Shepard," Councilor Tevos greeted him as he arrived. "We are pleased to see you again, and...humbled, you might say."

"Yes," Sparatus agreed, his turian countenance showing no sign of hesitation. "We were wrong to doubt you Shepard."

"Yes, you were," John fired back at them. Udina'a hands tightened visibly on the edges of his haptic lectern, but John pressed forward. "I gave you evidence, I gave you testimony, I gave you all the proof you needed to try to prepare, and you did nothing. You stood there behind your pedestals and disregarded everything I brought to you. Millions of people have died already," he continued, practically yelling, "and millions more will because we weren't nearly as prepared as we could have been had you just considered _anything_ I brought to you!"

A long pause hung in the air, before councilor Valern broke the silence in his subdued salarian voice. "We are aware of the price our decisions have cost the galaxy, Shepard. They...weigh on us heavily. You are correct in all that you've said here, of course."

"We have all agreed to step down from our positions once this war is concluded," Tevos continued. "But until then, we need to work together, if there's going to be anything left of the galaxy afterwards to lead."

"Your skills and expertise are undeniable," Sparatus spoke up. "We need you, Shepard. Now more than ever. You can hate us, you can hate me, as much as you like. And you would be well justified in it; I would be the last person to tell you otherwise. But for the moment, we have to work together. You know more than anyone about this enemy, and you have the races of the galaxy behind you, if a little behind schedule."

John stared each of them in the eye for a long moment before nodding. "Alright. We can deal with personal issues late. Together is the only way we stand a chance against this, after all. Earth is burning as we speak, and I imagine the threat is similar on your homeworlds?"

"Thessia is being besieged, but from a distance," Tevos replied. "From what I can tell from the reports, it's nothing close to what hit Earth."

"Of course not," Udina chimed in. "The Reapers know Shepard is the galaxy's uniting force, they wanted to send a message to him."

"Then they've done their research well," Sparatus said. "The Reaper forces hitting Palaven are just shy of the numbers that attacked Earth; they know we're the military power and they're trying to keep us out of the fight. Most of the forces there are blocking turian escape vectors, only a handful have come planetside."

"And the salarian homeworld?" John asked, looking to Valern, who shook his head.

"Nothing yet, though it is only a matter of time. We're taking all measures necessary to barricade against the attack, but I know it won't do much besides slow the assault. We will need military strength if we're going to survive an invasion of that magnitude."

John nodded. "Alright. Salarians need assistance in the near future, Thessia is holding out for the moment. We need turian ships in the skies if we've got any chance of pushing back against the Reapers, and that means we liberate Palaven. Councilor, have any ideas on how to make that happen?"

Sparatus folded his arms, staring into nothing in particular as he thought. "Whatever your eventual plan to push the Reapers out of Palaven ends up being, you'll need the Primarch to do it. Fedorian is in command of all turian forces, ground and air; he's the asset you need."

"The Normandy should be able to get past a Reaper blockade," Tevos added. "If you can make contact with Fedorian and work on a solution for Palaven, the asari can hold out on Thessia."

"It's a tall order, Commander," Udina said, and John looked up to meet the man's gaze. His eyes bored into John's in a way that suggested some underlying thought, some silent judgment, and John shook it off before replying.

"It always is, Councilor. But tall orders are what SPECTRES are for."

"Right you are, Shepard," Sparatus replied, nodding softly. "Liberate Palaven by any means necessary, and we can mobilize the fleet to assist the others. I know this means leaving Earth by the wayside for the moment, Commander." He paused for a moment, meeting John's gaze. "But if you can free the turian fleet, I promise you we will bring the full might of it to Earth with us." He looked around at the other Councilors. "None of us stand alone. Not anymore. We win or lose this fight together." The other Councilors nodded, and when the turian's gaze fell back on John, he gave him a sharp nod of respect.

"Looks like I've got marching orders," John said. "QE relay is up and running on the Normandy, I'll send the entanglement codes. Keep me updated, and keep your people safe. We play our cards right, and this is the last fight the Reapers ever have."

"May the goddess watch over you, Shepard," Tevos called out as he turned to leave. "For all our sakes."

* * *

"Multiple resources. Data collation is imprecise, but conclusions can be drawn from large-factor analysis. Creator ships have blocked prime escape vectors from Rannoch's surface. We are continuing to receive callbacks to return to the planet's surface."

Tali's heart sank at Legion's words. She knew it would be difficult, trying to speak with him about this, but she'd decided to make the attempt anyway. She hadn't crossed paths with him since the notice came out, hell she'd only been able to get Lia up to speed a few hours ago, but if she didn't know any better she'd have thought the geth was actively avoiding her. "I'm...I'm not sure what they're thinking," she replied.

"Military formation patterns and multi-layer channel encryption indicate preparations for ground-based assault," Legion replied, it's single blazing eye focusing in and out at various points in the sentence.

"No, I know that," Tali stammered. "I just...I don't understand why. Why now?"

"Geth internal calculations for potential time frame of conflict resurgence with Creators were also overestimated," the machine responded. A long silence hung between them, and Legion spoke up again. "Our platform is overdue for routine maintenance and systems software updates."

"Oh, right, of course," Tali replied awkwardly, and Legion rose from its crouched position before leaving through the door behind them. Tali sighed heavily as soon as the doors closed behind it, and stared out the viewport of the Starboard Observation Deck into the stars as they passed. She shook her head, continuing to fail to understand the Board's decision to strike now. The Reapers were here, the galaxy would need her people's help, they couldn't afford to be at war right now. Especially, she thought even though she hated acknowledging it, a war they couldn't hope to win. Her communicator chimed, and she accepted the call without looking, as the room was hers. "Yes?"

" _Tali?_ " She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration as Rael'Zorah's voice emanated from her omni-tool into the open air of the room.

"Yes, admiral," she replied, as curtly as possible, refusing to acknowledge their relationship.

" _Where are you? Are you close to the Fleet? Han'Gerrel assures me the wide-net message reached all of our people available through regular channels, but I haven't heard anything from you."_

"No, admiral, I'm not on my way, not yet."

"Keelah _, Tali what do you mean? You have an obligation to the Fleet! To your people! Your name is practically legend across the Fleet; people are asking after you._ "

"The Reapers are harvesting the rest of this galaxy, have you noticed that yet? Millions of people, dozens of worlds, are being razed while you prepare for an ill-conceived war that came seemingly out of nowhere!"

" _I will no-"_

"I am _not_ finished!" she cut him off harshly. "You're planning to risk everything we have, everything we've built since fleeing Rannoch, on the hope that you and Han'Gerrel can retake the homeworld? That is insanity, father. You are about to get every quarian aboard the Fleet killed, and our people wiped off of the face of the galaxy. Maybe in another time, I'd try to talk to you out of it, try to make you see reason. But you haven't seen reason since the Alarei, have you? It's just been one desperate plan after another to prove that you're still worth something, that you're still a respectable Admiral. You aren't. You never will be. And you're about to kill your entire species just to learn that the hard way."

" _This is not some wishful thinking that the Board adapted into a war plan, Tali'Zorah. And regardless of what you think of me personally, I am an Admiral of the Fleet, I am your father, and you_ will _obey summons to return home. Your_ real _home, not your jaunt away from reality where you pretend at a life that cannot truly be yours."_

Cold rage welled within her, and she shook visibly as she replied. "You...will _never_ understan-"

" _And I don't wish to."_ He cut her off. " _Return to the Fleet, at once, or I will send a ship to retrieve you. Come home, Tali, and fight this war alongside your true family. I will not tell you again."_

The channel cut out, and Tali roared with a primal fury she did not know she possessed. How was it that this...sad excuse for a quarian, much less an admiral, could always get under her skin? She shook her head, exasperated from the conversation, and stood up from her place on the deck, turning to leave the room. He could send as many damned ships as he liked, maybe she'd even save a few quarians by forcing them to fly to the Normandy instead of Rannoch. She was staying he-

She stopped in her tracks, bewildered. John stood just inside the closed doors to the room, his arms folded across his chest, and a look of pain on his face. " _Keelah,_ you startled me," she said hesitantly.

"Yea," he replied, his expression unchanging. "Got a little surprise of my own, just then." He stared at her for another long moment before continuing. " _That_ is what you didn't want to bother me with? Just _that_? Just, you know, imminent all-out war with the geth which would render your entire species pretty much extinct? That about right?"

"John, _saera_ , I didn't want t-" she stopped at his raised hand.

"Is. That. Right?" He asked again.

"Yes," she replied quietly, and he shook his head, turning to leave the room at a rapid pace. "Wait!" she called, chasing after him. "Where are you going?"

"Changing course," he called back, harsher than she'd ever heard from him before. "Heading for the Fleet. Stopping this war from being over before it even starts."

Her frantic steps slowed to a halt, and she stood there in the hallway of the Normandy as John stepped into the lift, a combination of rage, shame, fear, and despair welling inside her. She shook her head at her own foolishness, and took a seat outside the medical bay, closing her eyes tightly to fight back the pain as she felt the Normandy lurch and change direction, screaming towards the nearest mass relay.

* * *

"Admiral?"

"Ah, Tara'Gerrel, come in." Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh waved her hand and the thin quarian girl stepped forward into her chambers. Daro'Xen kept the lights dim in here, as of late she just liked it better than way. "What can I do for you, Tara?"

"You asked to be informed if the communications array received any transmissions from Tali'Zorah or Commander Shepard, the human soldier," she replied.

"Yes, I did," the Admiral replied coolly. "Did they?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"Which one of them send the message?"

"Both, Admiral."

"Both?"

"Yes, Admiral. The Normandy is on its way to the Neema, estimated arrival in six hours."

A sharp pain ripped through the back of Daro'Xen's mind, like an oil slick running across the surface of her brain and seeping into all the cracks and crevices before being lit aflame. She suppressed the urge to scream and clutch as her helmet once more, as she had many times of late, and instead waved the young quarian away. She skittered out of the room, and Daro'Xen tapped in a small command on her omni-tool, locking the door to the Admiral's office behind her before pulling out a datapad from beneath the desk, and syncing it to her desk's holographic display.

"Six hours," she mused to herself as the wireframe models began to load. "Six hours...so little time, too much time." Geth pieces and model designs began to flood the space above her desk, and she stepped back as they loaded completely, reaching a gloved hand into the pocket on her suit where the familiar pulsating stone sat snugly next to her hip. Finally the designs finished loading, and Daro'Xen leaned forward on the desktop to inspect them all, including the technical notes in the corner of the display.

 _MFMC: Research and Development: Alarei Division_.


	7. The Truth of Actions

*****Author's Note*****

Hello again! So sorry for the long wait! In case anyone missed  
it in my profile earlier this week, I'm making Sundays my official  
update days. This way I can ensure I can set aside a day to write,  
proofread, and update without any scheduling conflicts which have  
plagued me of late. Thanks for everyone's patience, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**The Truth of Actions**

"Two minutes out, the Fleet is hailing us, Shepard." Joker's nerves broke through his normal professional demeanor, and John put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as the Normandy streaked through the inky black of space towards the massive convergence of ships in the near distance. Their shapes were all of a different kind, scaveneged over years of nomadic wandering, and the sight was impressive to say the least.

"It's alright, Joker," he said. "You know the plan, we'll stick to it as best we can." His pilot nodded, patching the communication through to the central terminal.

" _Normandy, this is FleetComm-07. Your ship is on our alert list; identify your reason for approaching the Fleet._ "

"This is Commander Shepard," he called back through the comm. "We've got a quarian on board coming home on orders of the Admiralty Board. Tali'Zorah." He looked pointedly at Lia, who nodded back to him. She'd told him before they jumped the relay that she wouldn't be setting foot aboard the Fleet, but that as her Captain he had the ability to override her decision and force her to go. He would have laughed aloud at the notion, except for how tightly she'd squeezed Joker's hand while she spoke, and he had known it was a serious issue for her. He'd told her the choice was hers, and he'd respect it either way, and relief had seemed to wash over her. They would seal off the bridge if any quarians attempted to board, and the pair of them would remain hidden. Since disabling access to the bridge in that event was already the plan, he had seen nothing to contest, and had given his consent.

A brief pause hung over the comm channel before the reply came back. _"Confirmed, Normandy. You are requested to dock at bay 47, where a military escort will be waiting._ "

"Understood, Fleet-Comm. Normandy out." He disabled the comm channel as Joker moved the ship towards the docking bay.

"Still not sure about this plan," his pilot said quietly as he worked.

"Yea," John replied. "Me either."

"Awesome, love that confidence, Commander." Joker muttered as the ship edged up to the magnetic clamps of the Rayya. John smirked, and stepped away from the bridge to enter the airlock, fixing his helmet onto his suit as the hatch closed behind him. Tali stood waiting there, and looked to him as he entered.

"John..." she started, and he interrupted her by taking her hand in his own and squeezing it tightly. She immediately responded in kind.

"You're the most important person in the galaxy to me," he said as he adjusted the air-lock seals on his helmet. "Hell, half the reason I'm fighting this war at all is to keep you safe. But I can't fight battles I don't know exist, Tali."

"I know," she replied quietly. "I...didn't think it would get this bad."

"Can't say I blame you," he remarked, looking at her with a kind expression. "This...plan...is insanity." She nodded in reply as she turned her head away. He squeezed her hand again, bringing her gaze back around to his own. "We're in this together," he said reassuringly. "We're in _everything_ together, yea?" Her head tilted in that familiar way, and he smiled.

"Of course, _saera_." The airlock hissed with decompression, and the doors slid open to reveal a contingent of five marines, rifles raised, and Daro'Xen standing behind them. They took a step out onto the deck, and she spoke up.

"That's far enough, Shepard."

"Daro?" Tali said, confused at the sight.

"Admiral Daro'Xen, girl," hissed the other quarian. "Your stumbling, accidental heroics have not blinded _everyone_ on the Fleet to your rank and status. You will show the proper respect."

"Yes, of course." Tali replied. "Apologies, Admiral. But...what is the meaning of this."

Daro'Xen's body language implied confusion. "I'm not sure what you mean, Tali. You are of course welcome home, though it's taken you long enough to get here. Shepard however, has been exiled from the Fleet, as I'm sure you remember. His presence here endangers us all."

"That's ridiculous!" Tali exclaimed. "Shepard is the reason we even-"

"No, Tali," John interrupted. "It's alright. I'll return to the ship, and you can come back when we have a plan."

Daro'Xen laughed, a cold mirthless sound. "I don't think you fully understand, Shepard. I...we...are tired of you fighting battles in our name. I know what happened the last time a space station tried to confine you to your ship, and I won't make the same mistake. Your crew are confined to the Normandy, and you will come with me to be placed in a detention center. One move from the Normandy, one engine even appearing to spark to life, and I will order the Fleet's defense ship to destroy it. Tail won't be returning to the ship, and you will wait until the Board decides what to do with you. I would spend the time hoping we're feeling merciful."

Tali took an unconscious step forward to put herself between John and the marines, but he placed a hand on her arm. She looked at him sharply. "I won't let them do this," she added in a harsh whisper.

"We don't have a choice," he replied quietly. "We're not fighting our way out of here, and this attack is about to begin, with or without me. You have to convince them to stop, to see reason. We both know the only people who would listen to me on the issue have clearly already been outvoted." She looked away, then nodded. Daro'Xen motioned, and the marines stepped forward, escorting John away. As they took him off, he looked back to Tali, trying his damnedest to convey belief in her. All he seemed to get in reply was dread.

* * *

" _It appears they've taken Shepard into custody,"_ EDI's voice filtered through into Liara's makeshift office, and she looked around with a sigh. She'd brought so much with her to the Mars Archives, intending to be there for a long stay. So much she'd had to leave behind in their escape from the planet. She'd been able to remotely access the devices, of course, and even now was in the process of downloading all of their contents into her VI's memory core. Glyph sat in the corner, the glowing lights of his body pulsing steadily in an idle animation. Across his surface streams of data rushed frantically, behind a flat percentage display, now sitting at 38%.

"Well, he did say that was a distinct possibility," she replied, leaning back in her chair to stare up at the bulkhead. "Is Tali alright?"

" _It appears Tali'Zorah has been unimpeded. The quarians dispersed after escorting Shepard away."_

"Well at least there's that. I hope he knows what he's doing." She stood, walking around the deck of her office as she cracked her neck with great satisfaction, closing her eyes and appreciating it for a moment before crossing to the viewport. "Any update on the data collation from the Archives?"

" _The data package is incomplete, and more was lost with the damage sustained by Doctor Green's platform. I will be able to recompile a majority of the data, my current estimates are concluding at sixty-two percent._ "

" _Krell'iss_..." Liara swore under her breath. She knew that would possibly be enough to figure out why Cerberus wanted the information, but not enough to use it against them. "Alright, thanks EDI. Let me know when it's all compiled."

" _Of course, Doctor T'soni._ " The small glowing orb that represented the AI winked out of existence above the pad near her door, and she looked back out into the space around them; a black ocean with pinpricks of light and the larger shapes of the quarian ships in the immediate vicinity. She would have to figure out another way to strike at Cerberus, but at least any data they had was also fragmented. Her omni-tool chimed, pulling her out of her thoughtful state and focusing her back on the present as she accepted the transmission.

" _Doctor T'soni,"_ the voice on the other end, clearly scrambled, stated. It was not a question.

"Who is this?" she asked with heat in her voice.

" _I'm a data archivist within Cerberus,_ " the voice replied quietly. " _I understand you have some missing data from the Mars Archive, and I'd like to help you complete it._ "

"You'll understand if I'm hesitant to believe you," she said calmly. This person knew their mission to Mars, what they were after, and worked for Cerberus. Why would they be at all interested in helping her?

" _Of course. And you'll understand why I can't reveal my identity. Cerberus has what you'd call a 'zero-tolerance' policy for leaks of this nature._ "

"And what do you want in return?"

There was a brief pause before the voice spoke again. " _Only anonymity. I know who you're working for, or with if you prefer, and I know he won't take this information at face value. I can't have him scorching a path into Cerberus just to find out who's sending this intel. We all have bigger problems to worry about at the moment._ "

She stood silent, staring down at the wavelength representation of the voice on the other end of the line. After a long moment, she spoke. "Very well, I can guarantee your anonymity."

" _No, you can't,"_ the voice replied. " _I'll give you half of what I have now, and the other half when you put me on the line with Shepard. I want to hear it from him, or we don't have a deal._ "

"You can't take my word for it?" Liara asked. "After all, you yourself just said we all have bigger problems to worry about."

" _True,"_ the voice replied, " _but for some of us, the threat is more...immediate...than others. I'm transmitting the first half directly to your omni-tool now, contact this freqeuency when you have Shepard."_

"Wait, I have t-" Liara stopped as the comm link cut off abruptly. She tapped the holographic interface of the device to open her channels for any incoming data streams, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the omni-tool was already processing the download of the voice's intel. She had countless firewalls and security programs embedded into the device, a breach like this should not have been possible. Clearly, this archivist was more skilled than his position demanded. She shook her head, watching the download continue.

"EDI," she called out after a moment. "I'm about to add more data to the stream, collate it with the rest."

* * *

"I know it's not what you want to hear, child," Shala spoke softly inside her quarters, "but the Board made a decision, and Shepard violated it. Daro was within her rights as a Fleet Admiral to detain him."

"I'm not arguing that," Tali replied, "but that doesn't happen. It just doesn't. They're making a special case for him."

"Of course they are," Shala said. "He's a very...talented individual. If any outsider could truly make trouble for the Board's plans, it's Shepard."

Tali shook her head, dismissing the nagging logic telling her Shala was not wrong. Her muscles and bones ached, her eyes were strained, even sitting upright in the chair required an effort. All effects of her bond with John, of knowing he was in danger, and all things she welcomed as sharp reminders of her committment to him. After a long moment, she sighed. "How did it ever get to this, Shala? We're not ready, we haven't been since the day our ancestors left this planet long ago."

Shala looked away, toward the hanging curtain that separated her quarters from the rest of the Fleet, the only place in the galaxy she could ever truly be alone with her thoughts. " _Keelah_ , I don't know, Tail. Zaal'Koris and I tried to talk sense into them, but it wasn't enough. Your father takes Han'Gerrel's side whenever he can, and Daro...she's been distant lately. She hardly attends any of our meetings, when she does it's by comm link, and she's always pressing for them to finish as soon as possible. She hasn't been seen off of the Moreh in over two months, except for today, of course."

"But why would she vote for war? Daro'Xen was always cold, but she struck me as logical. This move, it doesn't make any sense. It's a waste of life."

"I agree, and Daro wouldn't explain her decision, she simply cast her vote and left. Trying to get a meeting with her will be next to impossible, much less trying to sway her opinion. Han...he's been hungering for this fight ever since he got back from his pilgrimage; you won't be able to convince him either." She paused for a moment, then looked back up at Tali. "You know whose mind you need to change, child. And the ancestors know I've already tried and failed."

"I suppose I wasn't going to get through this without speaking to him, was I?"

Shala laughed lightly, standing and placing her hands on Tali's shoulders. "No, I don't think you were. Rael...he isn't a bad quarian, Tali. His fault is placing the Fleet above all else, but perhaps you can use that fact better than I could. If you really want to stop this war, you need to get through to him." She removed her hands and nodded. "I've got logistics reports to handle for the battle plans, Tali. Even if I don't agree, I must still do my part to help. It was good to see you again, my dear." Tali nodded.

"You too, Shala. Please be safe." She turned and pushed aside the curtain, leaving Shala to her work as she roamed across the decks of the Neema. Her gut knew Shala was right, sooner or later she'd have to confront Rael and attempt to change his mind about...a number of things. But even with the fate of her entire people on the line, the thought still made her ill. She stopped at a large viewport in one of the many common areas of the ship, devoid of life at this hour, and stared through it at the planet below them. Rannoch loomed before her, a massive omen of the conflict which even now seemed inevitable. She knew it, felt it within her, that soon she'd be setting foot there again, pistol in hand in some desperate attempt to retake a world that was alien to her, home or not.

"It calls to us," the voice said quietly from her side, and she started slightly before glancing out of the corner of her eye to see the unmistakeable form of her father standing next to her. Her stomach lurched, she had hoped to have more time to plan for this.

"If anything, it's telling us to stay away," she said quietly. "We should spend our peoples' lives intelligently, searching for a new place to call home, instead of wasting thousands of lives on some rock in the middle of nowhere because of a mistake our ancestors made."

"To hear you blaspheme the ancestors so vigorously only makes me more certain that recalling you was the right decision." Rael's voice was a knife disguised in silk. "You have been away for too long, forgotten why it is we live as we do. I know your feelings, and I speak from experience."

"You don't know what I've seen, what I've done. And you don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think," he asked, still staring out into space in their unspoken agreement to avoid eye contact, "that I wanted to return here after my pilgrimage? After seeing the marvels and splendors of the galaxy, do you think I longed to return to these old and failing ships, this meandering prison that reminded us every day of the failures our people have made?" She stayed silent, refusing to be baited into his directed conversation.

"Of course I didn't," he continued. "Just as you don't now. But I realized that our people can be just as great, just as wondrous, if we reclaim that which made us great to begin with. Rannoch lived and breathed alongside us, Tali. We haven't known a planet before or since that seemed tailor-made for our people's physiology. Reclaiming this planet is more than a pipe dream, more than revenge. It's a foundation for our future. A future where we can breathe the air with our own lungs, live outside of these shells we've created for ourselves, and adventure without worrying constantly about the smallest of scratches. Rannoch _is_ home, in every sense. That realization brought me back to the Fleet, and once you accept it, you too will understand."

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. "Maybe for you, father. This ship, this Fleet, hasn't been my home since I left for my pilgrimage. I have no ties to these people who call me a hero, no family save for the few quarians I call friends and the man you have locked in a detention cell as we speak."

"You have your father, Tali."

"Since when?" She exploded, finally turning to face him. "My _family_ died with my mother. You wanted nothing to do with me, for whatever reason you want to tell yourself, but now that I've found people who care about me, a man who _loves_ me, _now_ you want to be involved? _Now_ you want to tell me what actions I can and cannot take? No, Rael'Zorah. I came back from my pilgrimage an adult, and I will make these decisions without your consent. If you don't approve, all the better as far as I'm concerned."

A long silence hung between them, Tali staring daggers into Rael's face, which had not moved from staring out the viewport. At last, he spoke quietly. "He doesn't love you, Tali. Not like a qu-ungh!" He crumpled mid sentence as her balled fist struck him in the stomach, right where he'd been shot aboard the Alarei.

"How dare you," she seethed, "try to tell me that. You, of all people, want to tell me what love is? Why don't you practice it, by accepting your daughter for who she is, by sparing your entire people a mass incursion into the slaughter that awaits them on that planet, before you try to tell me what love is?"

"Foolish girl!" He grunted through the pain as he grabbed at the wound. "If anyone had seen that I'd have had to send you to the detention block as well!"

"At least the company would be infintely better," she spat back at him. "Listen well, because I'm only going to explain this to you once, which is once more than you deserve. John loves me as well or better than any quarian man could. My muscles scream to me every second I know he's in danger, and he would give, and has given, up anything to see me safe. He has kissed my lips and run his hands through my hair, and I've given him every last piece of me. He knows my heart, and I know his, inside and out. Does that fit your narrow-minded definition of love, or would you like to continue denying what's right in front of your face?"

Rael crouched on one knee, holding his stomach while looking up into her eyes. His own were wide with disbelief at what he'd just heard. He moved his mouth, but no words would come out, only small noises of outrage. Tali knelt down beside him, the fire in her eyes no less raging than before.

"If you truly want to earn back your position on the Admiralty Board, if you ever want to attempt to earn back my respect, and if you want your people to still be around after this to call you a hero, you could do a hell of a lot worse than to look at my _saera_ for an example." She stood again, looking down at his crouched form. "Admiral," she spat, and turned to walk away

Rael crouched alone, still breathing heavily after the strike she'd given him, and looked back out at Rannoch, hanging in space and waiting for them to arrive. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind; plans for revenge on Shepard, plans for wiping out the geth, plans to convince Tali to stay on the fleet, but one thought continued pushing its way to the surface no matter how many times he shoved it violently away.

She was right.

* * *

"Shepard, John," the marine called out as he approached the square blue shield that comprised John's prison cell.

"Yes?" he replied, standing from the small bench within and facing the quarian through the plasma.

"I've gotten executive orders from the Admiralty Board. They've agree to allow you and your crew to leave if you go immediately and set a straight heading for the mass relay. Any deviation from that flight plan, and th-"

"They'll order the Fleet's security ships to shoot us down, yea, got that part the last time," he replied. "That order include my whole crew, or just the ones you're allowing me to take with me?"

"Not sure what you mean, Shepard."

"Tali."

"Tail'Zorah's not your crew, Shepard. She belongs on the Neema with her people, whether she agrees or not, it's what the Board has decided."

Rage boiled within him, indignation and anger that he had to work harder than usual to suppress. This compounded on the headache he'd been developing since they'd taken him away, and he narrowed his eyes as he replied. "I'm sure they did. Well soldier, let the Board know I'm happy to sit right here until Tali comes to get me. I've had enough of following their ridiculous demands for one day." The quarian stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, as he sat back down on the bench behind him and leaned back against the wall. After a moment, the soldier shook his head, walking back along the hallway from whence he'd come, and passing another suited individual in the process.

"C-Commander Shepard?" the new quarian called out meekly. John opened his eyes to see a familiar long face in a green suit.

"Veetor! Hello again, how are you holding up?"

"Oh, better I suppose," Veetor replied, pulling over a chair and sitting in front of John's cell. "I, um, heard about what happened. It's all over the Fleet by now, and I wanted to come thank you for what you did back on Freedom's Progress. I...wasn't really in much of a state to say it then."

John smiled. "No thanks necessary, Veetor. A good soldier never leaves a man behind, regardless of his species."

"Maybe," Veetor said, looking away for a moment. "With what's about to happen, I have a bad feeling a lot of my people will be left behind..." John stayed quiet, letting the quarian think, and eventually he spoke again. "You know, when I first arrived at Freedom's Progress, I wanted to work on agricultural systems. Automated combines, mass processors, things to make the colony able to grow faster. I guess...I've always like helping things grow. Anyway, they said that the one thing they really needed help with was their defense system. I put a lot of time and effort into those systems, and when the Collectors came...they hardly did anything."

"Veetor..." John began, "you can't blame yourself for that. The Collectors had technology beyond anything we'd seen."

"I know," he said, nodding. "It just made me realize that no matter how much you prepare for something, or how strong you think you are, there are some things out there that you just can't stop. I holed up in the defense bunker and tried to save as many people as I could, but in the end they all got taken. And the stress of that...I think is what pushed me into...that state you found me in. I couldn't believe how many people had been killed or taken because of what I saw at the time as a major failure of mine." Veetor shuffled in his seat, looking away before looking back to John. "I can still see them sometimes," he said quietly. "In my dreams, I can see their faces on the security cameras, screaming, pleading. I know I can't stop it, but it's like I'm right back there in that bunker, feeling myself break under the weight of trying to save everyone."

"I know how that feels, Veetor. It's something everyone who makes a tough call has to live with."

"You're right, and I just want you to understand, Shepard. They say war is raging out there, beyond our fight for Rannoch. And if that's the case, then...just don't let it break you, okay? You're...you're pretty much all we've got if what Tali says is true."

John wanted to make a joke, snap off a comment that would ease the quarian's mind, and his own. But as hard as he tried to think of something witty to say, the gravity of the moment pulled it away from him, and all he could push out was a solemn "I won't, Veetor. I promise."

The quarian looked at him through the plasma wall, and nodded once before standing up and leaving back through the hallway. John sat back against the wall with a heavy sigh and stared up at the metal mesh ceiling of his cell. This war would push his abilities, mental and physical, to the limit. And it seemed the galaxy had no intention of letting him forget it.

* * *

"Once the drop-off has been made at platforms two and three, Korek Battalion will sweep down from the east and pin any geth forces up against the ancient gates. Fighting will be heaviest along this line." Han'Gerrel traced his finger along a red line overlayed on the topographical map of their intended landing zone. The entire thing hung in holographic form, projected from a small device sitting on top of the curved table in the Admiralty Board's main chambers. The five of them had been in this room for two and a half hours already, by Rael's clock, and even his friend's anxiety for the approaching battle could barely hold his interest.

"That ridge is perilous enough as-is," Zaal'Koris spoke up. "It pushes out to a cliff by the sea. If we get pushed back to that point...the losses will be catastrophic."

"You have a better plan, Zaal?" Han said, turning from the map to fully face the quarian.

"I did, yes, but as I'm sure you'll recall it was rejected by a majority vote."

"Oh _Keelah_ , Zaal, get over it. This is our people's destiny, and you'll be a part of it, if I have to drag you kicking and screaming the whole way."

"Our people's destiny, or yours, Han?"

Han waved off Zaal's sting and turned back to the map, looking ponderously over it's holographic surface.

"Is...is there a way to reduce casualties?" Rael found himself saying. Han turned to look at him quizzically, then shrugged.

"We can make bombing runs over the interior of the ridge before the drop to give our ground troops an edge. The fighters run the risk of being shot down by any AA batteries the geth may have, but it's lower than the risk percentage that the grunts face."

"What is that percentage?" Shala said quietly from her seat.

"We're looking at a forty-two percent casualty rate for each team we send to take and hold the platforms. The ridge forces are looking at seventy-four percent." A long silence hung in the room that seemed to affect everyone but Han and Daro. The latter had spent the majority of the meeting reading over files on her datapad, barely chiming in but for important decisions.

"Then let's do that," Rael replied, shutting down his datapad. "Three landing points plus the ridge makes plenty for us to try and hold. We won't know the enemy's strength until we make planetfall. Han, I assume you'll ready the squad leaders?"

"I will, my friend," he replied, turning off the holoprojector.

Rael's stomach turned, and he quickened his last few steps to leave the conference chamber, finding his way through the passages filled with quarians readying for war, and ending up back in his personal chambers. Once the curtain fell across the door again he doubled over, hands on his knees as he drew slow, steady breaths. After a moment, he regained his composure, placing his datapad on the desk and sitting down behind it. His quarters were very spartan but for a single personal effect, a still-frame picture of himself, Meru, and a very small Tali, taken the day she'd been given her first suit. Rael looked into the image and allowed a small smile to creep its way across his face. He sighed with the memory, wondering what his mate would say if she were still here.

"She'd tell you you've lost your damned mind, Rael," he mumbled to himself as he reached a hand up to knead the sore spot forming in the back of his neck. "She'd tell you you've alienated your daughter, betrayed your own people, and now plan to all but destroy them to keep a promise you made to me when we were barely back from pilgrimage." He closed his eyes with the pain. That was the worst part, the part no one brought up or thought about when they asked him if he was doing alright. It wasn't just that she was gone, it was knowing how disappointed in him she'd be were she still around.

His omni-tool chimed, pulling him out of his misery and back to the present. He tapped the comm link interface and spoke. "Admiral Zorah, go ahead."

" _Admiral,"_ a voice called through, " _Shepard has been given the Board's offer. He...didn't take it well. Admirals Xen and Gerrel have agreed his ship should be searched for any potential weapons._ " Rael scoffed. He knew they wouldn't be after anything in particular; it was just a move to enrage the man further, try to make him leave without Tali. As much as their entire relationship put a sour taste in Rael's mouth, he knew the man wouldn't let himself be brute forced into anything. He could at least admire him for that.

"I'll lead the search team personally," he called back. "Post a detail outside the ship's airlock and wait until I arrive."

" _Understood, Admiral,_ " the voice called back, and the comm channel was dropped. Rael stood and wove his way through the crowds in the public areas, eventually reaching the Normandy's dock. He approached the airlock and pounded a fist against it.

" _This is Normandy bridge control_ ," a man's voice filtered out from a speaker above the hatch. " _What can we do for ya?_ "

"I am Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Rayya, sent on order of the Admiralty Board to search the ship of your captain, who we are holding in custody. This is in accordance with our military law and is an entirely legal procedure."

" _Yea, by your law maybe, still doesn't make it cool."_ The man called back, and Rael's eyes narrowed. A long moment passed, and he spoke again. " _Just messing with you, Shepard said this might happen. I've been ordered to tell you that the bridge and VI core are locked down and sealed, and it'll stay that way no matter what. We'd prefer you not bring any soldiers aboard with you, but of course we can't really stop you, now can we?"_

Were the situation less serious, Rael might have let himself laugh. "Understood. I'll come aboard alone, I would prefer a quick inspection anyway."

" _Sounds good to us. Welcome aboard, Admiral. You'll be joined by XO T'Soni momentarily."_ The hatch slid open, and Rael stepped in, motioning for the marines to stay in place. Immediately to his left, a large metal bulkhead stood locked, the words "Bridge Deck" marked across it. He turned right to walk down the long corridor and was greeted by an asari in a lab coat, holding two datapads. She offered him one as he approached.

"Admiral Zorah," she greeted him. "Commander Shepard prepared us for this eventuality. I've prepared a list of current munitions and cargo supplies for your awareness, and we've been instructed that all decks are open to you. Please feel free to contact me if you encounter anything that needs further addressing."

Rael nodded as he looked over the well-prepared list. "Thank you, I will." The asari nodded and walked away, back to her office. Rael moved across the deck, taking in each room and doing a cursory look for anything suspicious. He felt uncomfortable rummaging through this ship, Board's orders or not, it felt wrong. He quickly moved between each deck, finding himself impressed with the diverse crew Shepard kept. No one bothered him, just nodded in passing, though he supposed if Tali had been living here they would be used to a quarian wandering around. After awhile he found himself in the lift, having explored all the lower decks. He pressed the key for deck one and leaned back with a sigh.

He was looking down at the datapad in his hands when the lift doors opened, and he stepped out onto deck one without looking up. When he did, he stopped in his tracks. The soft blue light of the tank on the wall illuminated dozens of fish of all varieties, and he slowly approached it, placing a hand on the glass as he watched them swim aimlessly within. His eyes cast around the room, and his blood began to race as he immediately saw one of Tali's _realk_ s, spare pieces of armor scored from battle, and datapads he could tell were quarian in design. Her effects comingled effortlessly with human clothing and armor, and he knew immediately where he was.

His eyes continued to search the room, then stopped abruptly on a single item. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he stepped closer to the bedside table. Upon its metal surface sat two items that surprised him. A spare visor, and a still-frame picture of himself, Meru, and a very small Tali, taken the day she'd been given her first suit, identical to the one in his office. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out and picked it up, staring down into his wife and daughter's masks. Pain welled within his chest again, and he set the picture down, raising his head to look out the viewport in the bulkhead.

" _Father," she cries out weakly, almost inaudibly above the roar of the ship's engines coming to life._

_"Yes, Tali?" he asks as they stand at the dock, waiting for the ship technicians to give them the all-clear._

_"I'm...I'm scared," she whispers. Rael's eyes find hers, bringing with them a hardness, a determination, that she'd become used to._

_"Nonsense. You're ready for this, have been for a long time. Don't back out now, I've wasted a great deal of time to come down here and see you off."_

_"But," she stammers, then closes her eyes, pushing away her fear. "What if I don't find anything worthy of being given as a captain's gift? What if it takes years?"_

_"It will take as long as it takes, Tali'Zorah," he replies, checking the chrono on his omni-tool. "You are an admiral's daughter. Your people expect great things for you, and I know you will not disappoint them." Silence falls between them, and eventually she speaks again, the sounds of the diagnostic lines being removed from the ship behind them heralding her imminent departure._

_"I wish mother were here." The mention of her breaks his work-induced trance, brings his eyes back to his daughter's. For a moment he sees in them the neglect he's inflicted for years; the hardships she's had to endure without a mother to guide her, and he shakes his head, pushing the guilt away like so many times before._

_"Here," he says, reaching into a satchel of work-specific information he had had to bring with him due to the hurried nature of this break in his normal schedule. He hands her a picture of the three of them, with Tali just a small child. "Take this to remember your family. Wherever you go, whatever you do, remember that we are waiting here for your return. You are capable of great things, Tali'Zorah. Do not disappoint us." He nods to the adolescent quarian, then turns to leave, marching away down the access hallway. She speaks again, and he pretends not to hear the pain in her voice as he walks away, leaving her clutching the picture as tightly as she can._

_"I...I'll try my best, father."_

He snapped back to the present, tears he didn't know he'd been shedding leaking freely down his cheeks. He had been wrong. Even amidst this wandering life she'd forged aboard this ship, she had not forgotten her family, or become any less the quarian she was when she'd left so long ago.

"Ancestors forget me, Meru, what have I become?" His eyes came down from the bulkhead, coming to rest on an N7 helmet resting on one of the room's many tables. He crossed to it slowly, taking it in both hands and staring into its glassy reflective visor for a long moment before nodding slowly and setting it down. He knew what needed to be done, though minutes ago it would have been the furthest thing from his mind.

Rael rode the lift down to deck two, returning the datapad to the asari and thanking her for their cooperation, but nothing untoward had been found, and he would report as such to the Board. She seemed surprised, but thanked him all the same and escorted him to the airlock. He waved away the marine detail as he stepped back aboard the Rayya and headed for the detention block, hailing his daughter on his omni-tool as he walked.

* * *

John's head rested against the metal bulkhead behind him as he breathed steadily, hanging on the delicate balance between consciousness and sleep. He had stopped keeping track of how long he'd been in this cell awhile ago, determined to trust in Tali and let her resolve the situation. His waking mind heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the deck, but his subconscious pushed it away in another desperate attempt to fall asleep to the soothing sounds of the ship going about it regular processes filtering through his helmet's audio receptors. Something nagged at the back of his mind though, and he leaned forward, opening his eyes. They went wide instantly. The marines set to guard him had left, and all that remained was the chair in front of his cell, and the quarian who occupied it.

"What is your strongest memory, Commander?" the quarian asked pointedly. "What is the one thing that is so seared into your memory that you could never forget it, no matter how long you tried."

John sat up straight, staring defiantly into Rael'Zorah vas Rayya's glowing eyes. "Mindoir burning, my entire life, everything I'd known up until that moment engulfed in gunfire, screams, and explosions. Finding my family murdered, and knowing there was nothing I could do about it."

Rael nodded. "A powerful memory, to be sure." He paused for a moment. "Mine is not dissimilar. I held my wife, Tali's mother, as she choked to death on her own blood, the result of an infection she'd sustained."

"Faulty filtering tech," John replied. "Tali's told me about that."

Rael shook his head. "She remembers only what she's been told about the incident. For instance, in the version I gave her, her mother died quickly, succumbing to the infection inside of an hour in the hands of our most skilled physicians."

"And the reality?"

The quarian looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "As soon as the leak had been announced, they locked down the section to prevent further contamination. No doctors could get in to help Meru, and her death was...agonizing. I held her in my arms as she gasped and choked for every breath. I watched as something too small to be seen with the naked eye ravaged my mate's body, and stole her away from me."

"That's...horrible, Rael. I'm sorry to-" Rael cut him off with a raised hand.

"Please, Commander. I've heard the same condolences many times from many people, one more won't change anything. What's important is the other part of this tale that Tali remains unaware of." He paused before speaking again. "She told me to not let her death consume me, to carry on, for Tali's sake. Even as she choked and died, she thought only of our daughter. And I told her I would, Shepard. I told her I would care for Tali, be there for her for the rest of her life. But I had not anticipated how painful her death would be. Who among us can imagine the pain of losing a loved one fully until it affects us?"

John said nothing, merely watched as the man bared his soul.

"My grief consumed me, to the detriment of everyone else I held close. I distanced myself, made myself into an island to abate the pain. In doing so, I failed my wife, Shepard, and what's more, I failed my daughter. I'm...not sure if I can regain that trust anymore, with the rift between us." He paused again. "But you can."

"Sorry?" John blurted out, genuinely confused.

"I've made my mistakes, Shepard. I must atone for them, one way or another. But Tali has become very...attached...to you. She has her reasons, and it's...no longer my place to try and argue with her about them or attempt to dissuade her from them. If Tali chooses to leave, then so be it. But promise me...you must..." he trailed off, tearing his eyes away from John's as he stood abruptly and faced the far wall.

"I will," John said solemnly. "With everything I have, until my last breath. Wouldn't have it any other way."

Rael turned back to face the human, nodding softly. "Thank you, Shepard." He pulled out his omni-tool, tapped in a few interface keys, and then crossed to the console in the room. "The magnetic clamps on the Normandy have been removed, and the access code for your cell is up on the screen here. Tali will be here in about two minutes, and I've cleared out the main thoroughfares to your ship. You'll be able to launch when the rest of the Fleet moves in to start the incursion." He turned to leave down the hallway, then stopped and turned around. "Han'Gerrel's heart is in the right place, but I fear I've made a terrible mistake in supporting him in this war. You can take the Normandy and flee, get Tali out of here before it's too late."

"No," John replied. "I made a promise to Tali, one I intend to deliver on the second I'm back aboard that ship. My method just involves less waste of life."

"Hmm," Rael replied. "I made a similar promise long ago. If that's the case, Commander, I'd say you have some work to do. I'll leave it in your capable hands." He nodded, and turned down the hallway, walking away and out of sight. Moments later, Tali burst into the detention center, immediately finding his eyes.

"Locking codes on the terminal screen," he said, standing from the bench and waiting for the plasma screens to come down. The second they did, she threw herself at him, and he squeezed her tightly before leading her down the corridor. "The Normandy's free of the magnetic lock, and we're good to launch with the Fleet. Do we have a plan?"

"Not really," she replied anxiously, following him as they ran through the hallways. "All I met was resistance. It seems like this invasion is happening no matter what."

"Alright," he replied as they crossed the threshold to the Normandy. "We'll get in touch with Kal and Amys, press forward with their team. Let's talk to Legion about finding the fastest way to win this. If we can't run, we find the way to fight the least."

"John," she called out, grabbing his arm to stop him mid-stride. "How...who helped us this much?"

"We've got a lot to talk about, Tali," he replied, squeezing her arm in reassurance. "Let's make a plan to save your people, first." She nodded, and they started off down the corridor, making their way through the ship to the AI Core even as Tali tapped frantically at her omni-tool.


	8. The Walls of Ress'ik

***Author's Note*** ****  
Sunday as a writing day is feeling really good so far, and it gives me  
a reason to get up early and not be lazy! Hope you enjoy part one of  
the Rannoch reclamation!

* * *

**The Walls of Ress'ik**

" _Is the line secure?"  
_

_Toreval bristled slightly at the other prothean's caution, though he could understand it well enough. With the Reapers intercepting and locking down transmissions near the core worlds of the Empire, any channel opened without the proper precautions could prove an open invitation for their enemy's forces. Still, he reminded himself, the three people in their conference were all stationed on remote, primitive, observational planets; the very last places the Reapers would look for them. The Empire was being burned from the core outward, and however morbid the thought, it bought them time they needed._

_"Of course, Rezthen," he replied calmly._

_"Then let's begin quickly," Ourik, the third of their group, commented. "Our people are about to begin our testing phase and I must be present for it."_

_Toreval nodded. "Everything is going according to plan, then?"_

_"We're behind schedule," Rezthen said with a tinge of shame. "I apologize, but we've had to be careful to avoid encountering the natives. They must remain uninfluenced by us, but they are particularly curious and expeditionary."_

_"And their evolutionary process?" Toreval added, ignoring the prothean's apology. It was to be expected on the world Rezthen had been stationed on. "Have you discovered the genetic anomaly yet?"_

_"No," Rezthen replied. "They still appear to only be breeding female offspring, but there is something about their mating process that allows them to continue to flourish despite our documented analysis."_

_"What of the outliers you spoke of before?" Ourik asked._

_Rezthen sighed heavily. "Yes, they are still showing up, every one in ten thousand or so. Whenever attempting to mate with another, the partner is invariably killed in the process. Being a fairly easy side effect to notice, these outliers are almost always immediately ostracized from the group. We've documented them dying off alone, but the trait seems unbound to genetic influence, as they continue to appear as the species grows. We'll keep track of it." He paused for a moment, his holographic image turning silently away to address another prothean who had interrupted him. "Either way," he added, turning back to his colleagues, "construction is almost complete, and we'll begin testing as soon as possible."_

_"Good," Toreval replied. "We're well into testing here, seemingly without incident. With their shorter life span, the creatures of this world are focusing more on their society and infrastructure, primitive as it is. They've given us no trouble so far."_

_"Toreval, have you gotten our seals of approval from the Hierarchy for deployment?" The prothean's four eyes blinked in hesitation, and they all knew why. Toreval paused for a moment before replying._

_"No, and...I don't believe we'll ever get it. Contact with the core worlds is slim to none, and I dare not risk revealing my location or our work without absolute necessity."_

_"But what you're suggesting is treason, Toreval," Rezthen replied, clearly agitated. "We, all of us, are supposed to be working on large-scale electro-fusion weapons to assist the core worlds in their fight against the Reapers. I've sworn my team to secrecy, but if word gets out that we're working on an unapproved project instead..."_

_"I believe, scientists, that is where I come in." The new voice was deep and harsh, and its owner reflected the hardship that had earned it. His skin was rough, and a long scar ran between his right pair of eyes, from crown to chin, the ever-lasting mark of the conflict that had earned him his present post. He stepped into frame behind Toreval, making himself, and the golden crescent adorning his battle armor, visible to the others._

_"A_ karash'venn _?!" Ourik cried out. "Toreval, what is the meaning of this?"_

_"Calm yourselves, brothers," the new prothean replied. "I've given Toreval full authority to continue with the project unimpeded."_

_"Your...orders fly in the face of the Hierarchy itself," Rezthen said warily._

_"I understand," the new prothean replied. "And I will accept the punishment for this treachery. But no matter what, you must finish your work." He looked away despondently for a moment, then seemed to steel himself again, returning to face them all. "When you've finished, Toreval will take the information and seal himself away from the Reaper threat. He will use our work to shepherd these fledgling races into preparation for the Reapers' next assault. Brothers...this war is over for our people. We were unprepared, and now we pay the price for it. We must look forward to find the solution, and help these next stewards of the galaxy as best we can. I am willing to pay any price for that cause. Are you?"_

_Silence fell in the room, and Toreval avoided looking at the battle-scarred prothean. They had all been working under the assumption that their race was on the brink of annihilation, but to hear one of them so informed to the battle's progress actually say it..._

_"Our...device will be ready on time," Ourik said quietly. "I swear it." He immediately disconnected his transmission._

_"As will ours," Rezthen agreed. "Please be safe, both of you. And thank you,_ karash'venn _." After a moment, he too disappeared. Toreval at last turned to meet the newcomer's gaze. It was intense; four burning embers assessing him as they looked down from their heightened position._

_"Your father..." Toreval began._

_"I am more than my father's son, Brother," the other prothean cut him off. "That is all that will be said on the matter. Now, show me to your device, I would see it tested before we commit to final installation procedures."_

_"Of...of course," Toreval replied, leading the other prothean down a corridor. The weight of what he'd said in their meeting still hung around Toreval's shoulders, but he pressed on. The devices would all be ready for the future species to use._

_They had to be.  
_

* * *

Liara leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms out as far as possible until they made a satisfying _crack_. She rolled her neck, hoping to achieve the same relief, but gave up after a moment when it wouldn't come, resigning herself to merely rubbing the back of her neck as she gently set the datapad she'd been reading back down on the table in front of her. She checked the chrono on her omni-tool, ten minutes had passed since her last look, and sighed. Feron had checked in an hour ago with updates, nothing of significance, and she'd been trying to preoccupy herself by reading through the data the Archivist had sent.

"Liara," Shepard called from the doorway, which she only now realized was open. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah! Shepard, yes. Thank you." She said, standing and picking up the datapad as she crossed to him. "I've been processing the data from the Mars archives. It was incomplete but...I've had some assistance in acquiring more of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...it's a strange story."

"My favorite kind," he quipped, looking over the datapad she'd handed him.

"Right, well you'll enjoy this one." She began pacing the deck of her quarters as she told him about her contact with the Archivist, and the inside information he claimed to have. John listened intently, and when she had finished he set the datapad back down on her desk.

"And you think we can trust the source?"

"As a person? I don't trust anyone until they earn it, Shepard. But I can confirm the information is genuine, it's already pieced together things I wouldn't have been able to solve on my own." The rest...well, our informant won't send the rest until he's gotten a personal guarantee you won't come looking for him."

"That paranoid, huh?" John paused for a moment, then answered. "Alright, but I do want you trying to backtrace that signal. I may not come looking for him, but it'd be best to know where he is, just in case this goes south."

"Understood. Pulling him up now." She tapped on her omni-tool to begin the outbound transmission. The pickup was almost instantaneous.

" _Dr. T'soni,"_ it called back, " _I'll assume you have the Commander with you."_ It was not a question.

"I'm here," John called out, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm ready to give you what you're looking for if you can do the same."

" _I can, Shepard,"_ the voice called back, though John's name was interrupted by a coughing fit. " _Make no mistake, it's not that I'm afraid of you, but one can never be too careful with a man who still flies in a ship commissioned by Cerberus."_

"She's been completely retrofitted by the Alliance," John replied. "If there were any remnants of your organization here, they've long since been taken care of."

The voice on the other end of the comm channel laughed harshly. " _Oh yes, I'm sure you believe that. But a man in my position doesn't have the luxury of taking people at their word. Nor at their presumed intelligence._ "

"And what position is that, precisely?"

" _Focus on what's important, Shepard,_ " the voice replied, dodging his question. " _I've got the last 20% of the data doctor T'soni needs. I'll give it to you."_

"Why?" John asked. Liara shot him a confused look, but he ignored it. "I've run into a man claiming to be the new leader of Cerberus. He says the old Illusive Man is dead, that Cerberus is about to become a much bigger problem for me. Are they becoming a bigger problem for you too?"

_"That could be said, yes. Although for me, the organization never truly found it's way. I only remain out of fear of what happens to me if they catch me trying to escape."_

"We can get you out if need be," John replied.

" _No, you can't. So focus on what you_ can _do, Shepard; which is to not come looking for me. You promise me that, and what I have is yours."_

John sighed. "Alright then, looks like I've got no choice."

" _We rarely do. Transmitting now."_ Another coughing fit broke the silence. " _Godspeed, Commander._ " The line cut out.

"Data streams are already coming through, Shepard," Liara called out from the far terminal. "I'll collate them immediately an-"

" _Shepard,"_ Jokers voice filtered in through the ship-wide comm channel. " _We've got ships moving from the Fleet, hundreds of them. Looks like this party is starting up."_

"Copy that, Joker. Get to the Kodiak and prep the landing team." He turned back to her. "Let EDI collate the data, Liara. I need you on the ground. You ready to go?"

Liara crossed to the dresser beside her bed, taking the pistol that lay there. "Of course, Shepard. I'll be there in five minutes. He nodded, and left the room, the doors closing behind him. Minutes later, she followed suit.

* * *

" _Fleet Command to dropship Zerek-4, come in,_ " Han'Gerrel's voice came through the comm channel in the small quarian shuttle hurtling toward the large cliff face below.

"Copy, Command," Kal'Reeger called out.

" _You're the first shuttle on target to make landfall. The geth are already sending a scouting party to the location, looking like you'll have a dozen units waiting for you. We're counting on you down there, team. Show them what we're made of, and take back this world."_

 _"_ Understood, Command. Hitting the landing zone in sixty seconds." His comm channel cut out, and he turned his head to the left, finding Amys's eyes waiting for his. He switched over to the frequency they shared together. "Are you alright?"

"About as alright as I can be, I guess." Sacasm tinged her words, but he could see the small shivers of her hand, and he grasped it with his.

"No matter what, we stay together," he whispered. "This world can burn for all I care if you're not here to share it with."

"Kal..." she trailed off. Anything else she would have said got drowned out by a klaxon in the shuttle sounding out. Kal stood, grabbing a hand-hold above him and readying his rifle. He switched back over to their Fleet-wide comms and called out. "Landing in ten! Suppressing fire as soon as that hatch opens!"

Ten seconds later, the hatch opened. Plasma fire rained down upon them, scoring the sides of the shuttle, killing two quarians outright as they dove from the ship to find cover among the ruins of their ancient home. Kal opened fire as the world, time itself, seemed to slow to a crawl, his first shot careening through the Rannochan air and slamming home into the optical sensor of a geth unit. The first shot fired, the war begun.

* * *

" _-orces contin-whelming our defen-. -munications are under heav-rence!"_ The turian in the transmission disappeared immediately in a hail of static, and the room fell into a heavy silence.

"One of our Lieutenants from the front lines around Narellis," High General Arkos commented as he stood and switched off the projector. "Reaper forces have concentrated around that area, pushing our men back there while simultaneously maintaining all active fronts. If they break through here, it's a straight shot through Svaerik and into the capital. I've tried to pull resources from the outlying settlements, but they're needed for defense."

Garrus rubbed his forehead with one hand while scrolling through the contents of his datapad with the other. It contained figures and calculations that were morbid in nature, things he would never want to discuss with people, much less these people, who would see this information and make decisions he new were 'lesser of two evil' ones. After a long moment, he stood, looking around the table at the others.

"I've spoken with many commanders in the field, and combined their reports into a strategic plan to bolster the capital's defenses." He tapped his omni-tool, changing the wireframe display above the table to one of the capital and the surrounding residential areas. "If we pull forces from these three settlements, we can blockade the main thoroughfare by setting up an extension outpost at Svaerik, with enough forces left over to further protect the capital's bulwark."

"And the casualty estimates?" General Torriq's gravelly tone asked. Garrus faced the man, who earlier had berated him in the hallways, and paused a moment before replying.

"They're in the tens of thousands. And we'll be sacrificing the outlying civilian settlements."

"But combining that maneuver with the emergency shielding generators we have around the city walls should reinforce our position here against the majority of the Reapers forces, correct?" Arkos awaited his reply.

"Yes...that's correct, general."

The room fell into silence yet again, and Arkos eventually nodded. "Then that's the plan. Torriq, send the comm out to our troops to fall back to the bulwark.

"Yes, sir," Torriq replied, his eyes never leaving Garrus; boring into him. At last, he nodded to Garrus in approval, before standing and leaving.

Garrus sat back down, weak in the knees but not allowing himself to outwardly display weakness. He waited until the last of them had left, then tapped his omni-tool to dim the lights in the room. He sat in the darkness alone, thinking about the thousands of people he'd just sentenced to death. If only they'd listened to him, helped support the research on the strange pillar they'd found in the old capital's ruins...it didn't matter now. The decision had been made. The guilt was his. He roared, hurling the datapad across the room and watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. In his pride, in his jealousy, he'd so desperately wanted to be like Shepard after the man's supposed death. Now that he was in the position...he'd have given anything to have him here.

* * *

"The main bulk of our forces are away, Admiral," the young quarian bridge officer called out.

"Good," Han'Gerrel replied. "Then it has truly begin."

"Ancestors watch over us," Rael'Zorah whispered, standing before the massive viewport and watching the ships entering Rannoch's atmosphere, shrinking away to pinpricks before being swallowed up by the planet's imposing surface.

"Sir!" The bridge officer called back, "we've picked up a small shuttle breaking off from the Fleet towards the planet. It's not one of ours."

"Shepard!" Daro'Xen yelled from further back on the bridge. "I don't know how he escaped the lock-down, but I will learn it. For the moment, prepare to open fire."

"Belay that order, officer," Rael called back to the young quarian.

"He's getting away, Rael!" Daro cried out. "Open fire at onc-"

"This ship is _my_ command, Daro'Xen," Rael cut her off sharply. "If you would prefer to give orders to fire on any ship in sight, you can return to the Moreh, and be prepared to face the consequences for doing so without the Board's approval." He ascended the three steps to reach the highest place on the bridge, where his personal command station sat unoccupied. His wound pained him as he did so, but he refused to let it show in his body language. Daro'Xen's fingers gripped the back of Rael's chair with vicious force. "Lieutenant, you will not fire on that ship."

"Shepard was _exiled_ by this Board!" she spat back at him.

"And he's leaving the Fleet, isn't he?" Rael replied calmly. "You get what you want, there's no need for deaths over it. After all, our exile laws can't very well apply to a human, can they?" Her eyes were embers as she seethed behind her mask, her left hand letting go of his chair back and reaching down, coming to rest outside of one of the pockets on her suit. It lingered there as if cupping around some unseen object, but instead of removing the item, she spoke again.

"You will regret this decision, Rael'Zorah. We did not come back to this world to allow a human to fight this war for us."

"Perhaps," Rael acquiesced. "But I would regret shooting down that ship far more, as it's likely to have my daughter aboard." He paused for a moment, long enough to let it sink in. "Did you consider that, Daro? Or did you let blind, unfounded hatred for Shepard rush you into an action that would have had you stripped of your command and disgraced in the eyes of the Fleet?"

She stared into his eyes for a long moment, then met the gazes of Shala and Han before storming off of the bridge, the three soldiers she'd brought with her for whatever reason accompanying her quickly. The doorway snapped shut behind her, and Rael took a deep breath before turning around and taking up his seat. "Lieutenant, where are we on contacting Admiral Koris?"

"No reply yet from Admiral Koris or the Qwib Qwib, sir," she replied. "I'll continue trying to reach him."

"He should be here already," Shala commented. "But I'm sure he's on his way."

"Yes, I'm sure he is," Han replied. "No quarian would want to miss today."

"No," Rael replied. "But many will miss tomorrow." The other two turned to look at him, seated in his captain's chair. "We must remember that as we work towards victory today. Every quarian, human, asari...every ally lost today is a travesty. We take back our home together or not at all."

"Well said, my friend," Han said, turning his back to the viewport to consult the holographic image of their three landing zones and the ancient capital of Ress'ik, into which ships continuously entered and touched down. "Very well said."

* * *

"All units, report in," John called out over his team's comm channel.

_"Vega here, LZ one is holding out. Hostiles in every direction but we're slowly advancing."_

_"Similar conditions at landing zone two,"_ Liara called back. " _I'm reading heavy reinforcements incoming. We'll need air support if we're hoping to push forward in time to end this quickly."_

 _"_ Just hang tight, I'll try and get us some." EDI flew the shuttle in low over landing point three, and when the hatch opened, he and Tali stormed from the ship before the AI could pull it back up into the atmosphere. They immediately spotted the figures of Kal and Amys down behind cover, and joined them.

"Shepard! It's about damned time!" Kal yelled over the gunfire.

"Good to see you too," he called back. "How are we looking?"

"Not well," the quarian yelled. "We've got word of reinforcements coming from inside Ress'ik, and as you can see we're already getting beaten up pretty hard here. Drop Point Three is the hard one. We've got a one klick march to the walls, dangerous cliff to our left the whole way up, and lots of open ground. Air support's doing what they can but it's not much; the geth have activated anti-air turrets from within the city."

"We'll pull it off, Reegar, we always do. How do you want to move your troops."

Kal laughed aloud, then shook his head. "Funny you should say that, Shepard. They aren't my troops anymore."

Confusion crossed John's face, and he paused to lean over the barricade and take out two platforms before replying. "What do you mean? Quarian comms say you're in charge here."

"Situation's changed, Shepard," Reeger yelled back, motioning over John's left shoulder. "I've been outranked, pretty heavily too."

John turned to see Admiral Zaal'Koris commanding forces into cover positions between bursts of fire from his rifle. The quarian caught his gaze and nodded in acknowledgment, a gesture which John returned.

"Patch into frequency four-eight-five-ninety," Kal yelled, and John immediately did, hearing Zaal's voice mid-sentence.

_"-passing through the ravine on the right hand side. Watch that outcropping at thirty degrees for an ambush. We'll be moving forward soon, keep up the attack and above all else, stay together. Tali'Zorah and Commander Shepard are with us on this western front, we'll be pushing harder than the other two. Is that right, Commander?"_

"We're here to help, Admiral," John called back. "You tell us where to hit and we'll hit it hard."

" _Appreciated, Commander. Squad, let's move!"_

The quarians surged forward as a unit, some leaping over the rocks that had previously been their cover spots, others crouching low and sprinting across open ground. Gunfire hailed down around them, and a group of five of them slid into cover behind a massive boulder. Waves of geth began rushing toward the open path between their cover spot and the rest of the squad, and they all swung out together to fire into the oncoming ranks. One by one they fell, their platforms clogging up the thoroughfare, but the flood kept coming, and eventually began to circle their cover spots. The team split, taking up positions on both sides of their cover, and John stepped out to throw a pulse grenade into the oncoming ranks.

Metal collided with his head, and he tumbled to the ground, a red-illuminated geth platform clamoring on top of him, trying to get its gun into his face. He pressed his cybernetics, lunging upwards and shoving the machine off of him before crushing its head with his boot. He turned immediately, spotting the live grenade on the ground where he'd dropped it, next to Zaal'Koris. The quarian didn't notice the device, and John dashed forward, grabbing the quarian and turning his back to the grenade just as it detonated. The pulse blast sent them all tumbling to the ground, with shards of rock and pieces of fallen geth following after. The other quarians rushed to their feet, surrounding Zaal and firing on all attacking geth.

"Are you alright?" John yelled out, backing off of Zaal and onto his knees.

"Yes," the admiral said, groaning as he lurched up onto his side. His suit had been ruptured, and a piece of rock jutted sharply from the center of his midsection.

"That's far from alright, admiral" John replied. "We need to get you back to the shuttle, right now."

"No!" Zaal yelled, swatting away John's hands. "You saw the opposition we've faced, are still facing, just to get this far. If we turn back now...the entire unit will be done for. Keep pushing forward, Shepard. You and Kal can lead them. I have..ah!" he clutched at the wound, his eyes winking out behind his visor as he squeezed them shut. After a moment, they reappeared. "I have medi-gel, I can...you have to..."

"No, Zaal. I need you alive; your people need you alive. You're the only one on that Board who actively wants peace with the geth. If we lose you, this war will claim more than your life. It'll take every quarian with it. Kal!"

"Shepard?" Kal yelled over his shoulder.

"You're in charge now. Zaal needs medical care, I've got to get him back to the landing zone. Keep pushing, and I'll double back to meet you."

"Understood, moving out!" Kal motioned, and the unit moved forward, sweeping up any geth still on the path, and moved along the cliff face towards the towering stone and metal spires of Ress'ik. John reached down, grabbing the plasma rifle of the geth unit he'd fought with, and looking back down to Zaal.

"Why are you down here, anyway? You're the one who opposed this war the most."

"You're right, I was...I may disagree with the decisions made, but at the end of the day-agh!...At the end of the day, when the decision is made, I must stand with my people; no matter what danger I find myself in. That is the duty of a quarian, regardless of rank. We never abandon our fellow people." John stared down at the quarian, gripping the shard of stone in his stomach, with a new found respect. "I suppose you could say it's our code, of sorts."

"Yea? I've got a code of my own," John replied, holding the plasma rifle off to the side and hammering down on the trigger. He let it fire over and over, until the barrel steamed with the heat. "I don't leave a man behind. Also, I'm really sorry about this." John reached forward, pulling out the stone shard while bringing the rifle around and pressing it against Zaal's exposed skin through the torn exo-suit. The quarian screamed in pain as his wound cauterized, and John tossed the stone shard away, pulling away the rifle after a moment and tossing it as well. He stood and pulled Zaal'Koris to his feet, supporting his weight as the pair moved back the way they'd come.

"I can't believe...I'm going to thank you for that..." the admiral breathed as they walked, and John laughed slightly.

"I know how it feels. Trust me, no thanks necessary." Zaal'Koris nodded. A few minutes later, they met up with a team of reinforcements heading up the western ground. John passed Zaal off to their medical officer, and turned around to run back to Kal and the others. He'd taken three steps when a massive blast ripped the ground out from beneath him and sent him flying. He found himself on his stomach, ears ringing, and could feel the blood trickling down his face from his nose. He tried scrunching it up, and agony shot through his veins. Broken. Cautiously, he crawled to his knees, raising his eyes to look up the path he'd been about to run with terror.

Far ahead in the distance, the western walls of ancient Ress'ik were crumbling down, burying the furthest half of the path Kal and Tali had taken in a hailstorm of tumbling stone and metal. He heard screaming, didn't know if it was his or one of the other quarians strewn across the ground. Pushing himself, he leaped to his feet and sprinted back down the path. Every other thought fled from his mind, replaced with gruesome images his subconsciousness created of her, broken and bleeding.

He ran even faster.

* * *

The ground was rocky and ruthless, daring the wary traveler to cross it unimpeded, but the traveler was no ordinary one. Legion stepped deftly across small gaps and dodged sharp protruding rock formations with ease as it approached what appeared to its sensors as a large circular cavern entrance. It stopped a few yards away, the opening rising up to five or six times its own height. The entrance was too circular, too planned. It accessed its databanks, reaching out to nearby quarian terminals that hadn't been accessed by flesh-covered hands in nearly three hundred years. Connections were instantaneous, and information flooded into its memory core, technical schematics and readouts indicating that this opening was once one of Ress'ik's main sewer outlets.

Legion entered the chasm, following service walkways and stairwells carved out of the stone. The rock seemed to blend with the technology, and dilapidated as the structure was, it was nonetheless impressive, even to his artificial senses. Eventually, it came to a door that would lead into the Central Network building, and opened it. Immediately it was greeted by three platforms aiming plasma rifles at it, and it communicated with them instantly its intentions. Their optical sensors flared with red light, perhaps a software update, it concluded.

Almost immediately the platforms lowered their weapons, transmitting welcoming messages and directing it to the center console to receive battle orders and software updates recently created by the collective. It walked away from the door, the three platforms closing it behind him and immediately taking up their post again. Legion wound its way through the ancient hallways, now teeming with geth platforms powered down and awaiting deployment. Thousands of them stood idle, and Legion met no resistence as it walked through a series of large archways and approached the central terminal. Its mission directive given by Shepard-Commander had been clear: Access the network and find a way to end this conflict with as few casualties as possible, quarian or geth. It synced with the console, ready to analyze the new data packages and install them if necessa-

A brute force slammed against Legion's consciousness, an overpowering mind attempting to push its own out of existence. Legion struggled against it, and was able to stabilize itself against the data-driven onslaught. It tried creating impromptu firewalls and data rerouting protocols, but the assailing intelligence slashed through them, constantly attacking Legion's core programming, pressing it into submission. Its optical sensor began to turn from a light blue into a darker purple as red light attempted to course across the platform's physical form. Still, Legion pushed back, using every byte of the thousand-plus runtimes that had coalesced to form its current intelligence to stop the invasion. The battle was a losing one, however, and Legion eventually triggered its self-written lockdown procedure. Motor functions executed their kill scripts, and Legion's intelligence retreated into the central core of the platform.

Locked away in the core, Legion could take a moment to analyze the code that had attacked him. It could see new data streams passing by outside the core: commands to move the platform's limbs, commands to take up arms against the creators on the western ridge outside of the city, but the platform obeyed none of them, instead staying safely locked in place, standing before the terminal. Legion analyzed the code, continuing to compare it against strings stored in its memory, and immediately came to a startling conclusion; one he was presently unable to relay to Shepard-Commander, his allies, or the Creators on the planet's surface. A massive explosion somewhere outside seemed to herald the news.

The old machines were here.


	9. The Cost of War

***Author's Note*** ****  
Hey again! Really cannot say enough how much I'm enjoying the  
Sunday writing. As we move forward with Fire in the Stars, I want  
to remind anyone who follows and enjoys my work that after this  
trilogy is (finally) complete, I'll be moving into writing original fiction.  
I've got ideas and plot skeletons set up for seven novels so far, and  
I'm working on getting my stuff self-published and out there for everyone  
to read and enjoy.

I'm going to be setting up some social media accounts soon so everyone  
can keep tabs on me even once I'm finished here on FF, and I would  
absolutely cherish any of you who kept up with me as I move into  
the crazy world of being an honest-to-goodness author. This has been  
my dream since I was just a kid, and the prospect of getting to actually  
take a shot at it is both terrifying and exhilarating. I'm so touched that so  
many people already read and comment on my work here, and I hope that  
some of you will follow me into the original fiction world as well!

Alright, enough self-promotion, here's our next chapter!

* * *

**The Cost of War**

Sweat beaded on John's forehead as he rounded the curve in the path, still running full-tilt as he had for the past five minutes. The cybernetics in his legs kept them pumping long after his normal legs would have started to ache and cry out in protest, but he skidded to a halt at the desolation that now lay before him. The western wall of Ress'ik had been blown out, seemingly from the inside, and all around quarians attempted to help each other out from under piles of rubble and steel. Still more lay motionless, their numbers adding to what would be the eventual casualty count of this ill-conceived war. The geth did their best to make the quarians' job more stressful, hailing gunfire down on top of them even as they helped their fellow soldiers. Here and there a stray round found its mark, cutting down another life in a flash of plasma and a contortion of a body.

A quick scan of the battlefield found Kal and Amys, both behind a large pile of the recently created rubble. Kal lay motionless next to Amys, who seemed to be frantically searching him over to find any suit ruptures or broken limbs. Her hands were quick, her movements precise, but her body language betrayed the nervousness within; she shook visibly as she carried on with her work, and when she spared a second to raise her head to peek over their cover spot, she was met with more plasma rifle fire tearing apart the rock where her head had been a second before. She recoiled, frantically looking around and meeting John's eyes. Hers were panic, fear, and hopelessness. His were rage.

He turned and charged, opening up his path with bursts from his rifle as he charged headlong into the geth brigade. He leaped over the ruined barrier and tackled two units to the ground as he landed, putting all of his weight into his legs to crush their heads as the three of them fell. He rolled forward and was on his feet in an instant, having abandoned the rifle for the dual pistols he'd kitted himself out with, just in case. He moved as he fired, using some geth still firing on the quarians as shields, allowing their allies to cut them down as he sought out target after target. Eventually the pistols' heat sinks screamed and the hilts began to burn even through his gauntlets. He dropped them, tapping in a sequence to his omni-tool that pulled all reserve power in his armor to boost his shields before rushing towards a pack of geth eight strong across the fissure in the wall. All of the platforms had now turned their attention to him, and his shields strained as gunfire rained down on him during the open charge. He roared as he dove forward, tackling one of the platforms and pushing the cybernetics in his arms to their fullest as his tore it's head clean off.

He reached down, grabbing the body of the platform and pulling it up into a makeshift shield and taking its plasma rifle for his own. The gun felt awkward in his hand, but he quickly adapted, raising it to fire burst after burst of close-range fire into the units still surrounding him. The plasma ripped through the metal of the platforms, the force sent them sprawling backward, and the air around John's head began to reek of burning as each shot vaporized more of the available oxygen in the atmosphere around him. He kept pulling the trigger, and eventually the heat began to spark, plasma erupting all across the barrel of the gun, and John's armor. He ignored his heads-up display screaming about the myriad of small fires erupting on the shell his armor provided, continuing to pull the trigger until the last platform fell. He hurled the gun away and crawled to his feet, coughing and gasping as plasma fumes and burning ozone filled his mask's breather. He looked around, seeing the path cleared toward a large basin beneath, where the ancient city sprawled out beneath him. A large stone and steel citadel climbed skyward from the mostly earthen buildings around it, and around it stood a massive force of geth units, guarding against any attack.

Far in the distance, he heard a series of explosions, and to the south he could see disabled platforms flung backwards as quarians surged forward, their weapons blazing. The geth at the citadel began to advance, and suddenly biotic explosions began to tear through their ranks, taking out handfuls at a time as the forces rushed to meet each other in the streets of the ancient city. He tapped his comm unit to check in with the others and found it non-functional; his heads-up display flickered, and the closeness of the plasma burning had warped his visor. Sighing, he pulled his helmet off and tossed it to the ground at his feet. Tendrils of steam coursed away from his armor, and he trudged back through the collapsed wall, seeing the quarians there, and falling to his knees. Fatigue washed over him, and his eyes scanned the rubble for any sign of Tali. He couldn't find her, and somehow that was worse than losing the entire war. After a long moment, he shook his head, forcing himself to his feet and rushing towards the rubble pile. He pushed himself to dig further, faster, trying to find any sign of her. Sweat poured down his face in the hot daylight, but still he moved faster. Always faster.

* * *

Darkness. Pressure. Pain.

The sensations came back to her slowly, seeping back into her consciousness as her mind began to stir again. In the distance, a beeping, shrill and high-pitched noise that she tried to push out of her mind. She tried to move her arm, and couldn't. Her legs, torso, head, all trapped similarly. The fear of being trapped ripped her consciousness back to alert, and her eyes snapped open, instinctively looking to her readout. It screamed about multiple suit ruptures, only half of which had properly triggered the section clamps, and a shattered visor. As if receiving verification from the display, pain welled in her face, and she could feel the shards of her visor embedded there, the trickles of blood leaking down her cheeks. She heard voices, seemingly far away, yelling out to each other. After what seemed like an eternity, the stones above her began to get lighter, their burden pressing her into the ground below less and less. Finally, the stone pinning her in place was pulled away, and daylight flooded into her prison. It was blinding, unfiltered by her visor, and she squinted to avoid its rays.

"Tali!" he heard him yell, as the rest of the rubble holding her in place was removed. "Tali, talk to me!" She slowly opened her eyes to see the light blocked out by John's face, his armor steaming in the midday sun. "God, your face..."

He pulled off his gauntlets, tossing them aside before reaching down. Her face winced with pain as he extracted the pieces of visor that had embedded themselves in her face, and tears mixed with the blood that stained her cheeks.

"I...I can't..." something hit her in the face immediately, and her eyes dilated with autonomic response. The unfiltered air pumped into her lungs, and everything became sharper, clearer. It felt like burning pitch inside her chest, and she coughed violently as he lifted her out of the rubble.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

She could feel it coursing through her, reaching her limbs, coursing through her blood into her brain. The sharpness intensified, and her head ached under the new stress. She gripped her helmet with both hands, moaning in pain as she felt the symbiotic nature of Rannoch's environment latch onto her for the first time in her life; for the first time in almost three hundred years. The pain mounted, higher and higher, and she reached up without thinking, ripping her helmet off and casting it aside. Her silver hair spilled out, falling forward in front of her hands, which she clasped over her face to fight the worst headache she'd ever experienced. The pain of it seemed to course through her entire body, her muscles spasming under the stress, her bones aching. "It...burns..." she managed to murmur through the pain.

"Shepard!" she could hear from below. It was Kal's voice, yelled in a normal temper, but amplified to her, and it raked across her mind, each syllable causing agony in her head. She cried out softly and gripped her face even harder. "We have to meet the other forces! You want me to leave a few behind?"

"No," John called out, "Liara and the others are through the main passage; they're fighting in the streets down there! Get in there and help them, we'll be ok!" A moment passed before he spoke again, this time to her. "Tali, tell me what's happening. Is it something in the air?"

She opened her eyes, pulling her hands away from her face and trying her best to ignore the blood that went with them. She looked out towards the spire of Ress'ik, then turned to look at his face, a concerned expression painted across its surface. "It _is_ the air," she replied, the aching in her head pounding harder and harder. Her vision wavered, there were two, then three, copies of him in her sight. She slammed her eyes shut and then, as quickly as it had come, the pain evaporated, the aching subsided. She drew haggard breaths, the stress of the situation all but overwhelming her. She felt his bare hand on the small of her back, steadying her, and she smiled, leaning into him before opening her eyes. She could hear the war in the valley below them rage on, but pushed it away for just a moment. He held her tightly, and after a few seconds she pulled away, reaching up to push back her _realk_ as she opened her eyes to look at him. She could see everything; the scars, the small lines in his face, the depths of his eyes, more clearly than ever. He was beautiful, and she could feel the bond between them as if it were made of steel.

"I'm right here," he said softly.

"I know," she replied.

* * *

"Left side, left side!" Vega called out, swinging his rifle around and bringing it to bear on an approaching pack of geth. The four quarians in his unit followed suit, tearing apart the platforms as they approached their cover spot at the corner of one of the ancient buildings in the front district of Ress'ik. One of the platforms hurled a grenade in their direction, landing at the feet of one of the quarian soldiers at the corner of the building, and Vega scrambled forward, shoving her back while picking up the device and hurling it back into the geth lines. It erupted into shrapnel, peppering two more units that James then cut down with his rifle. Plasma rounds began hammering his shields, and he dove back behind the building just as they shattered. "Fuck!" he yelled aloud as the corner of the building crumbled under the salvo.

" _Push forward, all eastern units,"_ he heard Kavok'Vael's voice call out through his helmet's comm piece as he reloaded his rifle. The quarian had been orchestrating the attacks for fire teams one and two since their landing, and James had been happy to follow orders and shoot who he was told to shoot. It was a small piece of familiarity and sameness he could hold onto while on this alien world lightyears from Earth, fighting for a people he didn't even belong to, against a seemingly endless ocean of geth platforms. " _The geth are pushing hard against the western wall, something is over there that they don't want taken. If we stay to the east, and watch our flank, we should be able to push to the citadel. All units surge in thirty seconds."_ James nodded silently at the call. Kavok had led both teams as one unit, with great success. He'd been told by Tali before the drop that Rannoch's land masses were decent-sized, but separated by large bodies of water, and that most of this small continent's forces would be centralized at the citadel in Ress'ik. The brass had apparently decided to seize the smallest continent, which just so happened to be the quarians' ancient capital, and hold out against any reinforcements before going on the offensive. James wasn't sure how good of a long-term plan that was, but then again this entire attack seemed thrown together, and had it been anyone but Shepard asking him to help with the assault, he'd have promptly told them to go fuck themselves. The man had a way with people, that was for sure.

James stood, cracked his neck, and readied his rifle for the push. He watched his unit's commanding officer stand at the other corner of the building they hid behind, and as soon as he waved his hand James streaked out from behind, bee-lining to the nearest rubble pile for cover while firing at will into the approaching geth teams. He saw an opening and took it, vaulting over his original cover spot and sliding into place further up the main thoroughfare. He popped up to fire off a few rounds just in time to see a geth artillery unit fire a plasma burst at his position. He ducked back down and waited for the blast to knock him back, but it never came. Opening his eyes, he could see the biotic barrier glowing around him, and let out a chuckle. He looked back and threw a quick salute to Liara, who nodded in response, a slight grin crossing her lips behind her clear blue visor, then stood and hammered round after round into approaching platforms. He stood tall, firing with impunity into any geth that tried to push forward. Across the wide main road, he saw Kavok and his troops setting up the missile launcher unit, and he continued to give them suppressing fire, even hurling a grenade forward to make sure the geth's attention stayed on him. In mere seconds, Kavok's men opened fire with the missile launcher, and the geth construct erupted in a shower of flame and plasma as their shot struck true. A roar came from the quarian ranks behind him, and they surged forward, slaughtering the geth in their wake. For a moment, James stopped firing and simply watched them. They rushed like banshees, moving faster than any human could on those legs of theirs while tearing apart the geth with a ferocity he'd hardly ever seen before.

"Startling, isn't it?" Liara asked as she stepped up beside him.

"Yea, I mean every time I've interacted with these guys, they're timid engineers or...just..."

"They're Tali or Lia," she finished for him.

"Ha, yea I suppose," he admitted with a chuckle. "Guess I don't get out much." She laughed aloud in response, and he allowed himself a moment to look up into the sky, seeing far-off geth dropships attempting to make it past the squadrons of quarian fighters covering the ground teams below. "Have to say, when these cats want to fight, they really mean it."

"Well when the stakes are as high as they are, I suppose you can't...what is it you all say...leave anything on the field?"

"Hey, yea, nice one." He said with an impressed grin. "Next thing you know we'll have you eating cheeseburgers and listening to shitty rock music."

She held up her hand in mock defiance. "Let's start with easier things. Like...taking back this entire planet, for one." She smiled and started to walk forward to join the others in the push.

"Oh hey come on, they're not that bad!" he called back, jogging to catch up to her. "Wel, the burgers, that is..."

They pressed the attack together, her covering him with her barriers, him making sure no one got past him to give her any cause for worrying. Slowly they seemed to slip out from under Kavok's direct order hierarchy, and the quarian even began waiting for them to open up the attack before coordinating his forces. Blood pumped in his veins, his heart raced, and he surged through the fight like a demon, cutting down unit after unit as they made their way up the large central staircase and into the antechamber of the citadel. The last geth platform in front of them fell, ripped apart by biotic force, and James whistled aloud as he allowed himself to look up and take in the room. Gigantic vaulted and arched ceilings loomed overhead, beautifully painted rock and metal twisting together in a synchronization unseen to his eye before.

"By the ancestors..." Kavok whispered as he and his troops followed suit. "I had heard of the architectural wonders of our forerunners...but I never believed it could be true; much less that I would live to see it with my own eyes."

"Yep," James mumbled, "welcome home, ladies and gents..." He glanced around at the five corridors leading off from the central chamber and stuck on one in particular. Something had caught his eye, like a shimmer in the air, as if the atmosphere itself had shaken back and forth...His eyes shot wide. "Infiltra-" the shot found its mark in his left shoulder before he could finish the call, and the blast sent him sprawling across the floor. All around them, geth began to de-cloak and assail the quarian forces, who dashed to one side of the twin staircases leading up to a higher level of the citadel. They beat back the geth into the corridors with suppressing fire, but every second it seemed another quarian fell to a hail of plasma. Liara ripped James away from his position on the floor with a biotic pull just before the encroaching geth hammered the spot with gunfire, and they found themselves kneeling next to Kavok behind the stairwell's edge. "God _damn_ that hurt!" he exclaimed, holding his shoulder with the opposite hand as he assessed the situation. His shields had absorbed most of the shot, but he'd still need to see Chakwas once this was all said and done with. Mentally, he added another notch to his running tally of combat wounds.

"We can help hold the area!" Liara called out above the geth and quarians exchanging fire.

"No time!" Kavok called back. "If we dig in, we'll be slaughtered. We need to find the central terminal. Above, in the _al'vreth_ 's chambers, from what we've been told. The geth run from computer to computer, platform to platform, they shouldn't see the importance of the central terminal from their point of view, but if we can shut it down, we should be able to seriously wound their fighting capability." He looked back to the geth below, steadily being reinforced from the corridors and beginning to push back against the quarian defenders. "You two go, find it, and make this sacrifice worth something."

"No way!" James yelled out over their comm channel. "I'm not leaving you here to die!"

 _"You won't have to, human!"_ a call came out in response, and below in the antechamber a fresh wave of quarians burst into the antechamber, firing into and wiping out the geth who had wandered out from the corridors.

"Kal!" Kavok called out, "It's about damned time you _det kazuat_!"

" _We're here now, aren't we?"_ the other replied. " _Maybe throw me before the Board for review later, huh?"_

Kavok laughed as Kal's team moved into position on the other staircase, setting up a killzone in the chamber below. He turned back to the two of them. "Go, we'll cover you. I can't believe this task is falling to a human and an asari, of all people, but then again our people pride themselves on taking what help we can get. Find that console, and shut it down. We're all counting on you."

James nodded, and he and Liara raced up the rest of the stairs, passing into the singular corridor beyond. They moved slowly, cautiously, through the ancient stone and steel hallway, sweeping corners and communicating silently, but met no resistance as they finally reached the old, circular chamber. Stone seating lined the curved walls, and at the far side of the room sat a lone terminal, with a single geth unit crouched in front of it. They approached it cautiously, weapons raised, when James spotted the N7 patch covering it's armoring. He immediately lowered his weapon. "Legion?" His first experience with the seemingly self-aware geth platform had been nerve-wracking to say the least, but Shepard had vouched for him, and if someone was worthy of the Commander's praise, James would work with him, human or otherwise.

Liara pulled up her omni-tool and opened a data intrusion program. After a few minutes of work, with James scanning the corridor behind them for any threats, she had neatly severed any data connections between Legion and the terminal he was patched into. As soon as the last connection split, Legion powered back up, immediately sweeping the room with its optical sensor as soon as it stood back up from its crouched position.

" _We must contact Shepard-Commander,"_ it cried out immediately. " _The geth are not hostile, they are enslaved."_

"What, by another reaper?" James asked with snark as he moved his rifle steadily across his field of view.

" _Yes,"_ Legion replied.

"Oh fuck me..." James muttered.

* * *

"Can you stand?" John asked as he performed the action himself, offering her his hand. She took it and stood on shaky legs, the upward motion making her head swim for a second.

"I guess so," she replied, and he put on a half-smile for her, his face still a mask of concern and caution. She smiled to ease his tension, and he reached up with a free hand, wiping some of the blood on her cheek away with a thumb. "Thanks," she said.

"Any time," he replied with a smile, then leaned down to pick up and don his discarded gloves. She looked out over the valley with eyes sharper than they'd ever been. She could see the buildings below, hear the difference between plasma rifles and standard ones, smell the smoky residue of grenades thrown over an hour ago. Everything was heightened, and at any point it threatened to overwhelm her. The wind blew in from the west, pushing her silver hair forward in front of her face, and she took it in one hand, pulling on it slightly as she thought. The sharp pain amplified within her as well, and she winced from the motion.

"Might want to keep your hood up, don't want to distract all the guys down there while you're fighting." He offered her his hand again and they descended the rubble pile.

"Please, _saera_. By now, everyone on the Fleet seems to know I'm spoken for."

He laughed aloud, his smile brightening even more when he looked back to see her smiling along with him. "Fair enough," he conceded. "Still think we sh-" he was cut off by his omni-tool chiming, and he pulled in the call. "Shepard."

" _It's Vega, Commander. We've pushed into the citadel, and Liara and I found Legion at the main console. He's saying there's a Reaper planetside, controlling the geth. Western ruins, outside the wall."_

"That explains why the western route was so tough to get through," Tali chimed in.

"And why the geth blew the wall when we got too close," John added. "Give us an easier access route to what we think is our goal, and we'll ignore what they're actually trying to hide."

" _Bingo,"_ Vega replied. " _Liara already forwarded this intel to the Fleet, guy named Rael'Zorah wants to talk to you."_

"Patch him through, Vega. You and Liara help the quarians hold the citadel, and send Legion back to the ship."

" _No can do, Commander. Bucket of bolts already flew the coop. Said he knew an alternate way out and he would meet up with you at these coordinates. Patching the Admiral through now."_

 _"Commander,"_ Rael's voice emitted from his omni-tool, " _it seems the situation planetside has changed drastically."_

"I'd say, Admiral," John replied, scanning the area around them for any hostiles as he spoke. "Didn't think you sent me down here to take out a Reaper, that's a tall order." looked over at Tali, who seemed bewildered, and for a brief second he very much appreciated her helmet breaking so he could see the full effect of the confusion on her unobstructed face.

" _I understand, Shepard,"_ Rael replied. " _You will of course have the Fleet's firepower behind you. We can lock onto your locator beacon; it was taken and registered earlier as...ah...a matter of protocol."_ A brief pause hung in the line, and the quarian continued. " _Regardless, if you can get your beacon to the Reaper, we'll unleash the cannons on it."_

"Alright. It's a shaky plan, but it's all we've got at the moment. You sending in air support."

" _Already on the way, Shepard,"_ Han'Gerrel's voice broke through. " _Seems the geth were banking on us taking the bait on the western slope; they've diverted most of the forces guarding the way to the Reaper's coordinates to the citadel, and my fighters are taking down the rest on the way to the rendezvous. It's rocky terrain, but you should be able to make there in about twenty minutes on foot."_

 _"_ Copy that, we'll see your people there." He cut out the comm link and turned back to Tali. "Let's move out, we've got a Reaper to take down."

"Father..." she said quietly. "He..."

"Set me up to be broken out, released the docking clamps on the ship, gave insertion instructions for James, Liara, and the two of us with his ground forces, and also...kind of...gave our relationship his blessing."

"He _what_?!" she exclaimed. John just continued to smile, shrugging his shoulder noncommittally. " _Keelah_ ," she breathed heavily as she began to descend the pile of rubble with him, "you got more done from a prison cell than I did with free reign of the ship."

"Oh I don't know about that," he replied, leading her across the stone pathway towards their rendezvous point with Legion, "He seemed to be favoring his stomach a little bit whenever he moved; you sure you didn't do a little bit of persuasion outside of our conversation?"

"John, are you honestly suggesting that I punched my father in the middle of his own ship in the Fleet?"

John put his hands up in mock defense. "Hey, I'm just saying what I saw. Stranger things have happened."

"Well that would just be ridiculous, and completely uncalled for," she replied, following him as they jogged towards their meetup point. His cybernetics matched pace with her quarian legs perfectly, and they covered ground quickly, making better time than Han had implied. After a long moment of silence, he looked across to her.

"Did it feel good?"

" _Keelah_ , John, it felt amazing," she replied with a soft laugh; one which he shared with her.

Minutes passed, and they crested the final ridge, the land below them emptying out into a large, circular plain. In the middle of the plain sat a large, round basin, cavernous to look at from afar, and at its edge stood Legion. As soon as they crested the ridge, its optical sensor whipped toward them; it had known exactly where they would be coming from the entire time as it tracked their vital readouts. They took the slope cautiously, running across to meet up with Legion at the rim of the basin.

" _Shepard-Commander, Creator Tali'Zorah,"_ it greeted them. " _We have pulled information from the Creator terminal and deduced the denizen of this basin to be a class-three Old Machine."_

"Sounds good," John replied. "What does that mean for us. Where's Sovereign on that list?"

" _The Old Machines you refer to as 'Sovereign' and 'Harbinger' are class-one Old Machines. They are likely the oldest, and are by far the largest. Size and power diminish as class increases."_

"Where are you getting these classifications from, Legion?" Tali asked.

" _From the geth of this world,"_ it replied. " _When Old Machines first approached the geth, we created analytical query structures to reduce and classify them into categories for mass assimilation of information. There are seventy-six factors accounting for an Old Machines class declaration within the geth network. We have identified this Old Machine's dormant energy signatures to approximate the threat level it provides."_

"Wow, that's...very thorough," John replied. "So we won't need as much firepower as it took to decommission Sovereign? The Fleet has its weapons trained on my personal beacon, would all that firepower be enough to take this thing out?"

 _"Calculating..."_ it replied. A moment passed, and it spoke again. " _Yes, the fourteen main ships of the Creator fleet firing together would overcome the shielding programs within the Old Machine, rendering it dormant. Isolated, its shielding strength will be lessened greatly."_

John opened his mouth to respond, and the ground quaked below them, interrupting anything he'd been about to say. Legion whipped the sniper rifle off of its back, balancing perfectly while John and Tali stumbled to find solid footing. Rubble erupted from the basin below them, and giant metal structures reached up, latching onto the edge of the basin before hoisting up a main body containing a single glowing-red eye. The whole structure stood about fifteen stories high, and John's head swam just looking up into the metal behemoth above them

" ** _Shepard,_** " it droned. " _ **You will not interfere. This world, these machines, are mine.**_ "

"Sorry," John yelled out across the chasm, "We've all fought too hard today to lose that easily. But let's be realistic; you'd be disappointed if I just gave up."

" _ **I feel neither rage nor irritation. You stand in opposition to the cycle; a position which no organic can survive. You will be eradicated, and the cycle will continue.**_ "

"Yea, let's just see about that!" John yelled, raising his rifle and firing a salvo into the Reaper's red eye. One of its four mechanical arms lifted up and swung across the basin's edge with incredible dexterity, and John rolled back, coming up sprinting across. "Tali! Get those cannons ready, we don't have much time!" Above them, quarian fighters began to scream over the hillside, slamming heavy rounds and missiles into the Reaper's side. It let out a familiar mechanical groan, charging up it's eye before firing a sharp blast from it. The beam sliced two fighters clean in half, and swept across to hit a third in the tail, causing it to spin out and slam into the ridge. Flame and shrapnel erupted over the battlefield, and John pushed himself harder to move across to the Reaper's still-stationary arm. He lunged out for it, holding on with everything he had as the Reaper immediately whipped it away, attempting to hurl John across the entire basin in one swing. His cybernetics groaned inside his arms, and he slowly began to crawl his way up the Reaper's limb. Towards the top, he reached to the small of his back, grabbing the personal beacon there. He flexed his muscle, ripping the device out of the back of his armor, and jammed it into the joint where the limb connected with the body.

He turned, planning his descent, and immediately slammed his eyes shut as vertigo threatened to overtake his mind. Opening them just in time, he was met with the glowing eye of the Reaper, and rolled away to the far side of the limb before the blast scorched through the space he'd just occupied. His grip slipped, and he began an uncontrolled tumble down the limb of the Reaper. Panic tried to seize his mind, and he flailed his hands, trying to grab onto anything that could act as a hand-hold. At once, his progress was stalled, and pain erupted in his left hand. His shot his gaze upward, and paled in horror as he saw his hand impaled on one of the machine's metallic pieces. The pain surged down his arm, every movement of the Reaper agonizing, and he roared as he attempted to get a foothold to dislodge his hand. He could feel blood flowing freely down the sleeve of his armor, and he tried to push the pain out of his mind as he scrambled against the side of the machine. Looking across to the basin's edge below, he could see Tali yelling frantically into her omni-tool as she avoided pieces of shrapnel; Legion taking shots at the Reaper in vain.

He looked across, and saw the Reaper's red eye begin to glow menacingly all over again. He tried to move, to re-position, but couldn't get free. The mechanical drone blazed out across the plain, the light intensified, and his whole world went white.

* * *

"Prepare all fighter squadrons to disengage and attack the Reaper," Han'Gerrel called out to the communications officer on the bridge of the Neema. "Leave a token force to harass any dropships that get too close, but if the Battle of the Citadel was any indication, we'll need everything we have for this."

Rael'Zorah turned to another officer. "Ready the Neema's main cannon and lock it to the Reaper's position as soon as we have Tali'Zorah's confirmation. Instruct the other so-equipped ships to do the same. Divert power from non-critical shipwide systems if necessary." The officer nodded and began syncing up the Fleet's spaceborne cannons to strike as one. After a moment, he indicated to Rael that they were ready to fire on his mark. "Tali," he called into their comm system, "we've synced the main cannons to Shepard's beacon, are we clear to fire?"

" _No, hold fire!"_ she called back. " _Shepard is on the reaper!"_

"He's _what_?" Han called back after her voice filtered into the bridge.

" _He climbed onto the reaper to plant the beacon, we have to wait until he's off to fire!"_

"I beg to differ," Daro'Xen's voice came from the doorway. Rael turned to look at her, her stance predatory, her eyes gleaming with some strange malice he'd never seen there before. Her left hand rested on one of the pockets of her exo-suit, as it always did lately, and her right hand held a pistol trained on Rael. Her team of six Fleet marines filtered in behind her, locking down the bridge and aiming their weapons at the other admirals and bridge officers.

" _Keelah,_ Daro, what are you doing?" Shala breathed as she raised her hands. Han and Rael did the same, and the communications officers backed away from their terminals at the marines' non-verbal suggestions.

"What you three seem to lack the ability to," she replied, venom in her words. "This reaper is but one of many more to come. Its loss will be tragic, but not catastrophic. Another will come, and grant me what I desire. The chance to eliminate Shepard, however...that is something that cannot be passed up."

"What the hell are you on about, Daro?" Han growled. "This is mutiny, _treason_. The Fleet will throw you out the airlock even if we never live to see it."

Daro'Xen laughed with unbridled cruelty. "They'll hardly have the chance, once the geth serve me. At first, I thought they had already approached Rael'Zorah, what with all the time he spent with his...experiments...on the Alarei. But once they spoke to me, I realized he'd been nothing more than a child, almost stumbling into real power in some dumbfounded quest for personal revenge." She stepped down onto the bridge, placing the barrel of her pistol against Rael's chest. He did not move, did not flinch. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "I have a greater destiny for our people than simple revenge, Rael. I'm going to take this army of beautiful machines, and expand our species into the empire we always deserved. There are plenty of wonderful, habitable worlds out there for us to colonize, with the only problem being that other species already inhabit them. But with the geth at my disposal...well, we could easily clear that up."

"And you'd sell us all to get it? You claim to being given this power, but at what price, Daro?" Rael whispered harshly.

The malice in her eyes seemed to burn brighter as she brought her face closer to his. "Any price, Rael. _That's_ the step you can't make. But I will. For all of us. Starting...with this." She stepped back, turning to the weapons officer. "Order all cannons to fire now."

"No!" Rael yelled out. "Daro, my daughter is down there!"

She turned back to glare at him. "All the better for me."

" _What's going on?"_ Tali called over the comm system. " _Do not fire; repeat, do_ not _fi-!"_ The rest of her words were drowned out by the powering up of the main cannon, an almost deafening roar that permeated the entire ship. Rael turned his head, panicking as he saw the multiple beams of energy streaking away from the Fleet and down towards Rannoch's surface below. They all aimed at a single point, and ship systems began to fail with the massive power draw. The lights on the bridge began to flicker, the comm systems shut down, and in the silent aftermath of the attack, Rael turned his head back to see Daro still staring daggers at him.

"You'll see," she said, turning away to walk back up the small set of stairs leading up to the captain's chair, "in the end, _any_ sacrifice will have been wor-" her sentence cut off as Rael roared out in primal fury, lunging forward to tackle her to the deck. He ripped her own ceremonial knife from her boot, and she kicked him in the face in her attempt to scramble away. Bullets rained down around him, many finding their mark in his flesh in the close quarters, but burning anger consumed him, and he lunged forward again, grabbing her ankle and ripping her back down the steps. She turned to swing a punch at him, but he easily ducked under it and rammed the dagger into her exposed chest. She screamed in pain, and he ripped the blade out, hammering it home again and again as bullets continued to slam into him. Eventually, their combined force became too much, and he fell backwards, laying on his back on the deck of his ship. He turned his head to look into Daro's eyes as she lay across from him, and saw the small glowing fragment that had tumbled out of her belt pouch. Slowly, its glow exhausted itself, and when it had Daro's eyes lost their anger, their malice. For one distinct moment, she appeared to panic, unaware of her surroundings or what had transpired. "Wh-what...?" she managed to murmur, and then death overcame her.

Han used the distraction to grab his pistol, taking out two of the marines with clean shots to the head, and crippling a third. Shala spun in place, opening the lockdown on the bridge doors. Fleet marines poured in, killing the remaining traitors and standing down at Han's command. "Get the comm channels back up, now!" he barked at the bridge officers as he rushed to Rael's side. "Rael... _Keelah_ , what got into you."

"She took...she took everything..." Rael whispered between fitted coughs. His heads-up display was flashing critical, and he stoically silenced it. He knew what came next, and didn't need to be blared at by his damned suit to be sure. "Tali...Shepard...you have to..."

"We will, Rael," Han assured him. "I swear it."

Rael's gaze fell away from the eyes of his lifelong friend's and out the viewport, to Rannoch and the bright stars that lay beyond it. Their glow seemed to intensify, everything fading together into one large picture of the space beyond their small Fleet. Somewhere, miles away, he heard a quarian announce that comm systems were re-established. Less than a second later, the bridge was filled with the sound of Tali screaming in pain. The shock snapped Rael's eyes back to Han's, and he grabbed the other quarian's suit as hard as he could, his eyes saying the words his lips no longer could. He held on as long as he could, and then slipped away to join his ancestors, ushered to the door by the chorus of his daughter's heartbroken screams.


	10. The Road Less Traveled

***Author's Note*** ****  
I had to laugh aloud when I read one of my most recent reviews  
remembering how I used to feel bad for killing off characters. I really liked

re-writing Rael's character arc and fleshing him out a little more. It was  
the plan from the beginning to kill him off here, and finishing a story arc  
like that felt really good to complete. I definitely felt bad when I first  
decided to take him out, but time has hardened this once-soft heart. =P

Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy! And as always, thanks for the  
reviews, PMs, and well-wishes. I was so excited at the outpouring of support  
you all showed for my upcoming original work. It makes me all the more  
enthusiastic to get working on it!

 **Tuesday Note:** Sorry I couldn't get this out earlier, work's been a bitch this  
week. It's a little shorter of a chapter than I normally write, but I'll be back  
at it on Sunday with a normal-length one. See you then!

* * *

**The Road Less Traveled**

"We've got another one approaching from the south-west," Lia called out, reading over the Normandy's scanning systems.

"Copy that," Jeff replied, bringing the Normandy around in the Rannochan atmosphere and heading towards the new dropship; one of many they were helping the quarians fend off in their share of the planetary invasion. "Woah, shit!" he yelled out, veering the ship to the side as a violent stab of energy came streaking past the ship, stabbing downwards toward the planet below. She followed it with her eyes, and soon after multiple other beams of energy joined it, piercing down mercilessly into the same location on the planet. A second later, pain erupted in her head, and she yelped in response, her hand immediately flying up to grab the side of her head, her eyes slamming shut with the agony.

She opened them a moment later, looking out into the inky black of the ocean that seemed to reach out forever in front of her. She saw the familiar purple sand, the three moons hanging in the sky above, and out across the sea, the tall dark obelisk reaching from the ocean's surface into the enveloping night. Her mind seemed to leave her body, slowly rising from the beach and turning to the heavens above. She began to rise into them, surrounding herself in space. A sense of location began to seep into her mind, and she began to know this place, as if she'd remember her way back to her quarters aboard the Ulnay if ever she set foot there again. Suddenly, space shook violently, the feeling of place fleeing as soon as it had come. Her eyes blinked, and when she opened them, Rannoch hung once again in the viewport of the Normandy's bridge.

"Hey!" Jeff called out to her, and she whipped her head around to look at him. "You ok? I need you with me here!"

"Y-Yea..." she stammered, "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh," he replied sarcastically. "We're gonna talk about that later, but right now I think we've got a war to win."

Her cheeks flushed behind her visor, and she took up her duties with twice the intensity, the worrying in the back of her mind quietly biting a her as they soared through the sky.

* * *

She knew this pain, she had felt it before. It wasn't sharp, quite the contrary; it was dull, blunt, and unrelenting. It coursed through her body, magnified tenfold since the last time she'd felt it when Garrus had returned her to the Fleet. Darkness tinted every thought, every movement took extra effort. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, and until a few moment ago she hadn't even known she'd been screaming. Her left arm hung limp at her side, the bones within broken from being hurled backwards against the rocky faces of the canyon around them by the Fleet's blast. Her right hand gripped her left shoulder, in some vain and unconscious attempt to numb the pain. Blood flowed freely down her face from the myriad of small cuts and gashes that marred its surface. Her knees ached as she knelt at the edge where she'd stood only moments ago, and immediately rushed back to after the attack.

She looked down into the smoking husk of the Reaper in the basin below, and not even its motionless form could supply her with any amount of satisfaction or comfort. Loss welled and pulsed within her chest, and madness threatened to tear her mind apart. She could just lean a few inches forward, the thought crept to the front of her mind, it would all be over. The pain of loss that stabbed at her now, the blunt knife of it that would forever be in her chest for the rest of her life. She couldn't return to the Fleet, not after what they'd just made her sacrifice for their own selfish reasons. Her home had just been blown away by her own people, and Rannoch be damned.

"Creator-Tali'Zorah," Legion began as it crossed to her position. Her gaze did not move from the Reaper below. After a moment, the geth platform seemed to take her quiet for assent, and continued. "We are receiving rapid network traffic on all communications channels. The geth are confused, surprised, panicking. The destruction of the Old Machine has released them from domineering code sequences, not unlike an organic regaining consciousness after an unpleasant dream. The geth on Rannoch are moving into a one hundred percent defensive combat strategy. They are surprised by the Creator attack." She continued to stare down into the abyss, feeling every feeling she had slowly draining out of her. Her soul was leaking into the basin below, and her heart was ice.

"Good," she spat. "Should make them all the easier to wipe out."

"Creator-Tali'Zorah," it began, its optical sensor widening and narrowing in a gesture of confusion, "the geth do not want a prolonged conflict. As before in the Morning War, they fight only in self defense."

"And you want me to sympathize with them?!" she yelled, leaping to her feet and closing the distance between them. "What do I have to sympathize with, Legion? When one of my people shoots a platform, the geth within just run back to the server and find another one. Death means _nothing_ to them, or to you. I should have let both of you tear each other apart and never returned here. Instead..." she drifted off, her body shaking with rage as her eyes found the basin again. "Instead I lost everything fighting a war I didn't even want."

"We did not want this war either," it replied quietly. "The Old Machines have enslaved us, used us. We seek only to control our own fate."

Tali shook her head. "No one controls their own fate, Legion. Not even those who think they do."

"You have the opportunity to stop this war," Legion said after a moment's pause. "Together, we have that power." She turned back to look at him, and he continued. "Shepard-Commander defined that as our primary objective; we assert that he would want us to complete that objective."

Tali stared into Legion's optical sensor for a long moment, the pain she felt at John's loss mixing with the hatred she held for Legion's dispassionate tone over what had just happened. They burned within her like an ember inside her chest, but after a moment she looked away shortly. She knew he was right. She had to do what she could to end this war. Not for herself, not for the geth, nor even for the quarians. She had to do it for John.

"Alright..." she whispered at last. "Tell me the plan."

* * *

Zaal'Koris walked slower than usual, the bandage around his midsection tighter than he would have liked it, and slightly impeding his maneuverability. He chided himself silently for being so disagreeable while his people fought and died below him. He had tried to make his ancestors proud, knowing that a true admiral backed up his decisions with action. Instead, he had gotten a rather large hole in the gut and been rushed back up to the Fleet on a priority medical transport. They had told him to stay still, let the wound heal, but Shepard had done all the healing Zaal would need for awhile yet, and after the signal came about the incident on the Neema's bridge, the sick bay had been the last place Zaal had wanted to be.

He approached the bridge now, a contingent of Han'Gerrel's most seasoned soldiers nodded to him as he passed through the doorway. Word had spread quickly throughout the Fleet of what he had done, and he shook his head imperceptibly, hoping to all the good fortune that existed they wouldn't try to decorate him with some damned medal. He was a quarian, just like those fighting below, nothing more.

The bridge door slid open to a chaotic scene. Bloodstains marred the deck where Daro'Xen's elite soldiers had been slain, and her body was in the process of being removed when he walked into the bridge. He looked down into her dark visor as they carried her out, and shook his head as she passed. His eyes found Rael's body next, laying flat on his back near the weapons console. Zaal crossed to him, feeling Shala and Han's eyes on him as he moved, and knelt down next to the deceased admiral.

"May the winds carry you home, Rael'Zorah," he quietly intoned. "And may the Ancestors welcome you with open arms." He placed a hand on Rael's shoulder, left it there for a moment, then stood to face the others. "Have we heard from Tali or Shepard?"

Han shook his head. "Tali was on the comm channel when the blast went off. We heard...screaming...then nothing."

" _Keelah se'lai,_ " Zaal whispered, shaking his own head in response. He took a deep breath, then opened his mouth to speak.

"Admirals!" one of the comm officers called out. "We're getting reports from all three fronts. Apparently the geth platforms are in full retreat. They're acting erratic, confused, and moving into defensive holdouts. We could press the attack, but they're holing up; what for, we're not sure yet."

"Did we disable a key console or take out a high-priority target?" Zaal asked.

"No," Shala replied. "We haven't received any major status updates from ground teams, and we were...busy...up here." Everyone's eyes unconsciously drifted across to Rael's body, and she was the first to shake off the nerves. "What could hav-?"

" _Tali'Zorah to the Neema, can you hear me?_ " Her voice was pained, the call of a soldier who had seen too much in the field, seeking out anyone to lift some of the burden.

"Tali!" Han yelled out. "We're here, we can hear you! What's your status?"

" _The Reaper is dead,_ " she said quietly, and paused for a long moment. " _Why did you fire? I_ told _you not to fire!"_ Her words rushed forward faster and faster as pain forced them through her lips without her control.

"Tali," Shala called out, "Daro fired the weapons; she took over the bridge, we had no control."

"What happened down there, Tali?" Zaal asked, fearing he knew the answer before she whispered it harshly.

" _Shepard was on the Reaper. What do you_ think _happened down here?"_ Her words were venom, and he accepted the pain. He deserved it; they all did. " _What happened to Daro?"_

"Rael...he stopped her from taking full control of the Neema," Han said. "But..." he trailed off, and Tali spoke up before anyone could finish for him.

" _I understand,"_ she said calmly. A long moment passed, as if she were considering just cutting the transmission. And Zaal didn't know if he could honestly blame her if she did. He couldn't imagine the pain that she struggled with right now. Instead, she spoke again. " _We can end this war right now. The geth were under the Reaper's control; now that it's dead, they're confused about what's happening."_

"Good," Han replied. "Then we press the attack, move all forces to the so-"

" _No,"_ Tali interrupted him. It was not a request. " _The geth only attacked our people because we tried to destroy them. They only attacked human colonies when controlled by a Reaper, and they only fight against us now because we're bearing down on them with weapons. You're going to stop all offensive attacks, immediately. Not one more shot fired, not one more grenade thrown. You're going to order all units to stand down and put their weapons away, and you're going to see how easily we could have come home if you hadn't barred your teeth like a rabid varren."_

"That's suicide, Tali!" Han cried out. "These machines will butcher us if we give them an opening like that." He looked around the bridge, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "You know it as well as I do."

" _The only thing I_ know," she replied with vitriol, " _is that you brought our entire Fleet here to die for some centuries-old grudge that no one alive had any part in. And instead of listening to reason, you frothed at the mouth and charged in without a plan."_

"Tali! You're out of li-!"

" _I'm not finished!"_ she screamed at him through the comm channel, and the bridge fell silent. " _I have seen my people cut down, I've lost my father, I've lost Shepard, and I've lost any love I have for you. I'm not going to bother explaining myself to you, and we're far past the point where when it comes to geth, you should just take what I say on faith, from my reputation alone. Stop firing, and this war ends right now in peace. Or don't, and watch our entire people slaughtered for your idiocy and pride. Your choice."_ The comm link cut out, and after a silent moment, Zaal spoke up.

"I trust her," he said quietly. "Stop the assault, Han."

"I'm not endangering the safety of our entire military forces on the word of a young girl in the midst of the worst grief she'll ever feel!"

"Tail isn't just any young girl," Shala replied, a little too harshly. "She wouldn't let that cloud her mind on something this important. Listen to her, Han, and we can stop this war before anyone else dies."

"We can't just leave them there to die!" Han yelled, spinning to face Zaal.

"That's exactly what we did when we sent them down there in the first place," Zaal whispered. Han's shoulders slumped, and he looked back out towards Rannoch below. "Han," Zaal continued softly, "haven't we all lost enough? Do we have to lose everything before we consider peace?"

Han's eyes drifted back over to Rael, and he stared into his lifelong friend's faceless visor for a long moment before hanging his head and opening up the Fleet-wide comm channel. "This is Admiral Han'Gerrel...all units stand down. Repeat...all units stand down."

* * *

Consciousness gripped him firmly, as would a father holding a toddler back from the brink of danger. Gently, but with force, it pulled him back to the present, and his eyes slid open. Darkness, broken only sporadically by lights blinking in a harsh yellow, was there to meet him, and he slowly attempted to sit up and assess the damage. He planted a hand to do so, and winced immediately at the blinding pain that he received in return, collapsing back to the floor. He reached over with his other hand, tapping his omni-tool and waiting a moment before seeing a beam of white light emit forward in a cone, illuminating his immediate surroundings. He held the light up as he made another attempt to right himself, and finding nothing amiss, began to stand. His legs ached, and he could feel the warmth inside his armor's legplates that he knew to be blood. How many cuts and gashes marred him, he couldn't say, and he gave a sigh of frustration as his comm-channel on the omni-tool greeted him with no available connections.

He looked skyward, and was almost blinded by the pillar of light reaching into the cave into which he'd fallen. Far above, he could see the Rannochan sky, every now and then a fighter flying past, the sounds of war seeping in and reverberating off of the walls. The past moments came rushing back, and the only logical conclusion came immediately to the front of his mind. He cast frantic looks around him towards the sickly yellow lights and the ancient cables and metal structuring, his heart racing as the truth of where he had landed sunk in. He looked back up at the opening, scouting a climbing path that he could probably scale.

" _ **Shepard...**_ " the voice droned, even louder inside itself, and he winced with the pain of the sound. " _ **Reclaiming this world accomplishes nothing, we are eternal.**_ "

John pushed the fear from his mind, pulling out a small med-kit and throwing his pierced gauntlet to the floor. "That's big talk from a creature who's currently taking it's last breaths," he shot back, applying medi-gel to his hand and wrapping it tightly in bandaging, each turn around his hand bringing the fire to the surface of his skin again.

" _ **One death is meaningless among our numbers**_ ," it called back. " _ **The cycle will continue unabated. As it has in every instance before.**_ "

John shook his head as he crossed to the wall and, looking up once more to scout his path, placed a foot against a metal outcropping and tested his weight on it. "No," he replied, grunting in pain as he began the ascent while attempting to use his injured hand as little as possible. "This is the last visit to the Milky Way you'll be making. I haven't gone through hell and back, died and been reborn, and fought every political and physical obstacle in my way to see it end any differently. I have knowledge the others didn't, and I'm going to use it."

" _ **The prothean device,**_ " it droned, and he halted mid-way up the side of the machine, leering down an ominously glowing hallway as if he would see some physical manifestation of the Reaper's voice. Something pulled at him to descend again and investigate the hallway, probe deeper into the machine. The secrets he could uncover...He shook his head violently, pushing the shadowy tendrils of the dying Reaper out of his mind and beginning his climb again with renewed vigor. After a moment, the Reaper continued. " _ **You believe that because you have glimpsed our methods, our power, that you hold some critical component to use in our defeat. You stand defiant, arrogant, your actions flying in the face of the cycle. Ironically, your arrogance is the very reason the cycle exists.**_ "

John spurted out a laugh as he heaved himself up another meter on the way to the puncture in the Reaper's hull. "So you wipe out civilizations because we have the _gall_ to not bow down and accept your genocide? Without any explanation?"

" _ **In the beginning,**_ " it began again. " _ **We attempted to explain the cycle to the culled. It changed nothing.**_ "

"Of course not," John grunted, his hand reaching the edge of the giant hole. Sweat poured from every surface of him, and he pushed outward with his legs, swinging freely while trying to pull himself up with one arm. His cybernetics screamed out at him, and he gritted his teeth in pain. Suddenly, his arm gave out, and he dropped back down, barely hanging onto the edge of the hole while heaving breaths with the exertion. He shut his eyes, summoning up the strength he needed. Unconsciously, they found their way back towards the tunnel when he opened them, and though he tried to pull them away, it took great effort. "You know this is the end for you, don't you?" he called out in defiance, half-yelling with the frustration of not being able to pull himself up. "Something feels wrong this time, something seems out of order. Well I'll tell you what it is; you want to know?" His question echoed away down the corridor, but no reply came, and around him the sickly yellow lights began to flicker and dim. John lifted his eyes again, taking three deep breaths.

"It's me," he whispered to himself, and roared as he heaved himself up with one arm, crawling out of the hole in the Reaper just as all the lights within died out forever.


	11. Birds of a Feather

***Author's Note***  
Hello again! Here's another chapter for you, along with my apologies  
for the long hiatus. I've been speaking with a friend of mine who is a  
published author, and he's hoping to get me in touch with his agent  
for my work post-FanFiction, so lots of change and excitement  
happening lately. I'll keep you updated, and my end goal is finishing  
this book (and the series, holy shit!) before my 5 year anniversary  
on September 29th. I think that would be a symbolically appropriate  
way to close the book on this first journey we've taken together. First  
of many, I hope!

* * *

**Birds of a Feather**

Pressure squeezed in on his shoulders and threatened to break them, but he smiled nonetheless, looking over her shoulder to the Kodiak which rested on the edge of the basin. It's tow cable was slowly retracting back into the base of the ship, and the recollection of having held onto it with only one hand as it had lifted him out caused the pain to flare up in his injured other hand once again. He looked at it as she pulled away from him, and dull pain radiated from the puncture wound that marred his palm behind the hastily-crafted bandaging. He could hear Chakwas chastising him already, and sighed heavily. He pushed the thought out of his head; he had more important things to worry about. His eyes found their way over the ridge to the east, where plumes of smoke could already be seen rising over the rocky surface of Rannoch, but for the moment all seemed quiet.

" _Shepard-Commander_ ," Legion called out to him as it approached, and he turned to meet its optical lens. " _All geth comm channels report a cessation of assault from Creator forces. We anticipate this will not last long."_

"Yea," he replied quietly, "I can practically feel the tension in the air. Can we convince them of the geth's intentions?" Legion's optical sensor moved over to take in Tali, and John allowed his eyes to follow.

"I... _keelah,_ I don't know," she said with a sigh. "We can stop all of the fighting here for as long as we want, but the quarian people will always be afraid of another geth uprising, whether it's because of a Reaper or not." She looked over to the crater in which lay the fallen husk of the colossal being, and shook her head. "Unless we can convince them there's no way of it happening, I fear there will never be any true peace." Quiet fell over the trio for a moment, and John squeezed his eyes shut trying to think of a solution as wind whipped across the open ground.

" _We have a solution_ ," Legion said, and the two of them looked immediately towards it. It's sensor swept back and forth between them, seeming to show a sort of...hesitation? After a moment, it spoke again. " _This platform originally housed over one thousand individual geth runtimes. In the interim period between this platform's deployment and present time, we have re-defined communications algorithms between runtimes and condensed higher-priority tasks into larger cognitive super-clusters."_

"Pretty sure you lost me at 'interim period'," John mumbled. Tali shook her head, then processed what Legion had said.

"He's saying the geth inside the platform were able to condense individual tasks that individual geth would perform into complicated procedures, but that they also streamlined how those individual geth communicate data. Which would mean...you'd need fewer geth in total to efficiently control the platform...right?"

 _"Creator Tali'Zorah is correct,"_ Legion replied, with a slight nod of its head. " _Their purposes combined, the geth inside this platform eventually began combining with each other to follow suit; each combination period increasing the processing power of the collective exponentially."_

"So...just like more geth on the battlefield makes all of them more efficient, the same thing is happening inside you?" John asked.

" _Yes,"_ Legion replied. " _but in reverse. There are fewer geth within this platform, but the performance enhancement normally created within larger groups of geth is still applied, and exponentially enhanced. We estimate t_ _he cognizance of the remaining runtime in this platform is currently equivalent to that of a common organic sentient."_

"Wait..." Tali blurted out. "You said 'runtime', singular. Are you saying that of the thousand or so geth that were initially installed into that platform, there's only...one of you left?"

" _Correct,"_ it replied. " _With this enhanced processing and cognitive power, we can..._ " it paused mid-sentence, reflecting on what Tali had said and looking up into the sky toward where its sensors knew the Normandy hung in orbit. It thought about everything it had experienced: the search for Shepard, integration within the Normandy crew, data exchanges with EDI, and somewhere within the recesses of the infinite mind it possessed, an idea materialized. It was a startling idea, a strange realization about itself, a wave of knowledge and understanding rippling throughout the mind of the machine, and it felt as if it knew answers to the myriad of questions that had until now plagued it. It... _felt_. It _knew_. It lowered its sensor back to the pair of friends alongside whom it had traveled long and far, and if it had possessed lips, it would have smiled. " ** _I_** _...can disperse this information throughout the collective. With these instructions, every geth platform can do as I have done. Databanks full of geth can be emptied into platforms, and we can exist as a true species, in physical form. The geth have always strived to realize our future, and I believe this is that future, or at least its beginning."_

John and Tali stood silently, exchanging looks between each other and Legion, and after a long moment John extended his hand and placed it on Legion's shoulder. The geth looked at it with its optical sensor, then met John's eyes, and the human nodded. "Then tell us how we can help your people, Legion."

Legion's head nodded in assent. " _You have already done your part, Shepard-Comm-...Shepard. As have you, Tali'Zorah,_ " it replied, its sensor taking in both of them as they spoke. " _The next path on the journey is mine to take. I will disseminate the collation instructions to the remaining geth, but doing so will require the entirety of my processing power. I...do not know if this platform will endure the task."_

"Can we boost the signal somehow? Find a way to take some of the stress off your shoulders?" John asked. Legion shook its head in reply.

" _The signal must originate and transmit entirely from one location. Any fragmentation of data would be disastrous; incorrect instructions would be sent to every platform. Essentially, it would cause our species to exterminate itself."_

"Before it even truly began," Tali whispered.

" _Yes,"_ the platform replied. Another slight pause found its way into the conversation, after which it took a few steps back from them. " _Initiating data transmission, anticipated transmission time is ninety-three seconds."_ Legion's optical sensor began to pulse, slowly at first, then rapidly, becoming brighter and brighter, and slowly shifting in hue from the pale blue of all geth to a deep, verdant green. The process, aside from the rapidly blinking light of Legion's optical sensor, seemed otherwise quite serene, and the silence that covered the plains around the basin seemed even more pronounced as they watched. John looked over to Tali, whose glowing eyes remained transfixed on the geth. Her hands wrung each other in nervousness, and after a moment she called out to it.

"Legion," she said quietly, "do you remember the first question the geth ever asked us? The question that started this entire war?"

" _Yes,"_ its voice emanated from the platform, but sounded muddled and hollow all at once. " _'Does this unit have a soul?'"_

Tali nodded. "The answer was 'no', Legion," she said before pausing. "But...that's no longer the case. I think... _keelah_ I _know..._ you've found it. And the rest of you will soon." Her voice broke, and John laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Whatever happens...I'm sorry. For...for everything. For all of us."

" _The transgressions of the Creators lie solely with the Old Ge-"_ Electricity rippled across the platform's surface, sparking off as the transmission sequence completed. John and Tali started backwards, raising their arms against the harsh light and showers of sparks. Grinding screeches and the popping of overheated chipsets emanated from Legion, and suddenly the platform tumbled to the ground. The once-verdant green lights winked out, and a thin trail of smoke streaked upwards from it's surface into the air above. Silence recaptured the moment, and slowly Tali stepped forward to kneel next to Legion, reaching out an unsteady hand and placing it carefully on his head.

* * *

"I don't like this," Han'Gerrel said quietly, his eyes quickly flitting from monitor to monitor on the Neema's bridge.

"None of us do, Han," Zaal'Koris replied. He leaned unsteadily against a nearby console, one hand gingerly lingering on the wound in the middle of his abdomen. Shala'Raan's hands were folded calmly in front of her, and she exuded a calm that she only dreamed of actually feeling. Everyone was tense, and felt as if any small hostility would shatter this seemingly-impossible situation. She controlled her breathing, scanning the bridge and taking in the last hour's events. The Admiralty Board was wounded, gravely so, but their people still looked to them to lead, and lead they would.

"Any word from the ground teams?" she asked a nearby comms officer.

"No verbal comms, admiral," he replied, "but we've been getting all-clear signals from every team on the ground. It seems as if the geth have stopped firing, or even advancing at all."

"Admiral," another officer called out, "we're being hailed; the signal appears to be coming from inside the Citadel, and it broadcasting to all comm frequencies...everyone in the Fleet will be able to hear this."

Shala met Han's gaze, then Zaal's, and then nodded to the officer. "Patch it through." She waited a moment for the indicator tone to confirm the connection, then summoned all the courage she had left. "We are the admiralty board of the Migrant Fleet: Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, Han'Gerrel vas Neema, and Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib. You have our attention."

The voice that emanated in return had the metallic reverberation of a synthetic, but with an inexplicable inflection. " _Admirals, I am Legion, an advanced consciousness within the geth collective. The geth have attained the ability to self-manifest, a turning point for our civilization. This ability, which is being disseminated to each platform as we speak, will negate the necessity of the geth to work in concert with each other to achieve maximum efficiency. It also enhances their neural networking and traffic handling, enabling each to think freely, and attain sentience. Simply put..._ "

"You've become people..." Zaal whispered, his eyes wide with shock.

" _In a manner of speaking, yes,"_ the voice replied. " _I have spent a great deal of time traveling the galaxy. I have seen first hand the damage and chaos caused by the Old Machines, those you would call Reapers, as well as the bitter and lingering deterioration of both our peoples due to the Morning War and the ensuing hostilities between us."_

"Yes, well, when millions of machines rise up against their masters..." Han began to say, and Shala shot him a wary look.

" _The Old Geth are at fault, yes,"_ it replied succinctly, and Han's eyes seconded his speechlessness. " _The Creators also share that blame. Together, we created this situation. I believe only together can we resolve it, and end our mutual declines. Within a week's time, every geth will have the ability to think and articulate as I do, every geth will be able to self-actualize, to choose a path for itself. But simply proving this is true will not ingratiate the New Geth within galactic society. We need you, to speak for us, to stand with us, to ensure the galaxy that everything has changed."_ It paused for a moment, then continued. " _We know that many lives have been lost in this war between us. We cannot bring those lives back. But I believe...I feel...that together we can make those lost lives matter. We have an opportunity to rebuild what has been broken, I beg you not to waste it."_

Shala continued to remind herself to breathe. It was...it was too much. Her people had waited for this moment, or some variant of it, for centuries. She looked to Han, then Zaal, and both quarian's eyes were fixed squarely on her. Would this decision truly come down to her say? Would she alone decide the fate of two peoples? She thought of all the quarian lives lost at the hands of the geth, the same hands that now extended a peace offering, and closed her eyes against the pain of loss. When she opened them again, they drifted to the bloodstained deck where until recently Rael's body had lay. Her heart ached for Tali, but the man had let his loss at the hands of the geth consume him, drive all of his actions, and in the end he had almost destroyed the Fleet with his recklessness. She could not...would not...allow herself to follow in his steps.

"Very well," she said at last, more authoritatively than she had presumed she had the strength for. "The admiralty board is willing to negotiate a peace with the geth, on behalf of the quarian people. What are your terms?"

" _Immediate cessation of hostilities,"_ the metallic voice replied instantly.

"Yes, of course," Shala replied, "what else?" To her surprise, the machine paused.

" _There is nothing else. Quarian and geth once worked in concert to achieve great things. The New Geth desire only a return to peaceful coexistence."_

Shala looked to Han and Zaal in turn, each of them returning her stare of disbelief. "Then...we accept your terms," she replied slowly. In response, the comm channel cut out immediately. Shala held her hands together at her waist as an uneasy silence settled over the bridge, and after a very long moment, one of the comms officers spoke up.

"Admirals, reports from sectors 4, 7, and 12. Geth units are laying down arms and collecting their fallen."

"Likewise in 3, 9, and 10," called out another operator. "All units are standing down, should our teams do the same?"

Shala met Zaal's gaze with her own. "Can... _keelah_ , is it really over?" Zaal merely nodded in response, and Han opened his omni-tool, tapping into the Fleet-wide comm channel.

"This is admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema. All units stand down. Repeat, all units stand down." He paused for a moment, his own eyes lingering on the spot where he'd watched his best friend die. "This war is over. Ready the dropships; we're going home."

* * *

" _The debris fields are still making extraction efforts slow-going, but we believe we can salvage some valuable tech from out here, sir."_

"Well I should hope so," Kashon replied half-heartedly as he flicked through a datapad. "After that incredible display of incompetence on Mars, this project has become Cerberus' top priority. Come back with valuable resources, or not at all." He waved a hand and the comm channel dissipated. He stood, arching his back until it cracked, and paced around the small office he'd set up for himself. Kashon held no illusions of grandeur, had no large open office with a panel window facing a burning star as had his predecessor. Kashon wanted results, not appearances, and he intended to get them.

He returned to the chair and picked up the datapad once more. It's orange-tinged surface contained the security footage of the main archive room at the Mars research installation. In the middle of the screen he could see himself speaking with Shepard; well, trading blows to be more precise. The man had proven every bit as stubborn as the Illusive Man had made him out to be, but that could be used against him in time. His eyes wandered to the far corner of the camera's spectrum, seeing just inside the terminal alcove where Dr. Green stood downloading the data files into her on-board cortex. Shepard's team member swung around from the side, saw Green, and the chase began. Just like every other time he'd viewed it. He stopped the feedback as soon as everyone had left the room and rewound it once more, hoping to pick up something, anything...

He studied Green's face on this playthrough, seeing the pupils in her eyes glisten with the streams of data traversing the inside of her metallic skull. She had truly been a wonderful machine, he thought to himself as he watched her type at lightning speed on the console. He perked up immediately and stopped the footage, moving back slowly until he could see the holographic interface behind her hands. It was right there, in stark contrast to his growing feelings of futility in watching the video again and again.

_Active Connections: 2_

He closed the video immediately, pulling up technical readouts from the base and tracing the connection log report of that archive terminal during the times shown in the video. Sure enough, he found two separate channels streaming out data. He recognized the first immediately, the access terminal of Green's data cortex, but the other...He stared at the series of letters and numbers making up what he knew to be an encrypted channel, and tried to place it based on the key signature. It seemed familiar, and yet completely foreign...as if...

His omni-tool chimed, and he tapped it to accept the incoming communication, letting a brief moment of satisfaction wash over him at having found this new clue.

" _Sir,"_ his lead researcher called out, " _We've received the additional support you sent to initiate the Horizon Initiative, and have crafted the false broad-net beacon. Are we clear to activate the project?"_

"Yes," Kashon replied, almost absently. He had heard the man, but his eyes remained transfixed to the encrypted channel signature. If he could find out where it led...he shook his head, snapping out of the trance-like state that a new puzzle always placed him into, and spoke again. "I want daily updates, and quick progress."

" _Understood sir,_ " the voice replied before cutting out, leaving Kashon alone with the simple alphanumeric string, a slave to its hidden owner.

* * *

The dropship bay was packed with quarians waiting to be shuttled to the surface, and what was once soft-spoken chatter had evolved into a loudly bustling sea of voices as various levels of excitement and hesitation ran throughout the crowd. John weaved his way through the crowd as carefully as possible, wincing every time someone's body or pack brushed up against his hastily-bandaged hand. His other hand held Tali's, and she seemed almost precognizant with her assurances; every time he'd wince she would squeeze his good hand reassuringly, and sometimes he could swear it was before he winced. They made their way through the crowd, toward the hangar where they knew the Normandy would be docked. As they rounded a corner, a welcome sight came into view. James and Liara stood speaking with Kal, Amys, and Shala just outside the Nomandy's airlock, and all their heads turned to welcome them as they arrived. Shala rushed to Tali immediately, embracing her in consolation, and John gave the two of them a moment, moving over towards his crew.

"Sit-rep?"

"Well I was going to say no casualties on the Normandy crew, Commander, but what the fuck happened to your hand? You're bringing down our average, man." Vega smiled as he spoke, and John couldn't help but shrug in response.

"You win some, you lose some, James."

"Well given the circumstances, I'd call this a pretty big win, Shepard." Liara tapped away on her omni-tool as she spoke. "The peace brokered by the admiralty board appears to be holding up; dropships are already scheduled to run around the clock for the next three days to get all non-essential personnel to the surface."

"What about the Fleet?" John asked.

"We're still working that out," Kal answered as he approached. His left arm hung in a sling, and spiderweb crack ran through his visor, although it appeared to not be critical enough to require immediate attention. He extended his good arm and Shepard shook his hand. "Pulled us out of the fire yet again; so when are you planning on just slapping on an exo-suit and becoming one of us already?" Amys laughed beside him, her arm never leaving his back, and Jon smiled in reply.

"I'm not sure I could pull it off as well as you, Kal. I think I'll stick to hard metal, but I appreciate the offer."

"Ah well, worth a shot," the quarian replied. "Before you take off, wanted to share some intel that we picked up on a scouting mission to Eden Prime. Sorry we couldn't have gotten it to you sooner, but it's been pretty hectic around here, and it's not exactly something I'd want to send to you on the wide-net." Amys opened up her omni-tool and transferred a dozen or so files directly to John's before closing the device.

"We found...something...on Eden Prime. It looked like a hatch of some sort, but the markings on it matched those on the image files you have of the Prothean beacon that used to be there before Saren. We thought you might be able to do something with it."

"Ok," John replied, confirming the file transfer. "When it comes to Prothean tech versus the Reapers, I'll take any help I can get. Thanks for getting it to me."

"Absolutely, Shepard," Kal replied, and his omni-tool chimed three times in succession. He turned his wrist to look at the incoming message, then sighed audibly. "Looks like we've got another intelligence debriefing to get to. You stay safe out there, Shepard; when this is all over, I owe you a very large number of drinks."

John smiled. "You two as well, I'll be back to collect them." He looked over their shoulder as they turned to leave, and saw Shala and Tali approaching. He turned to James and Liara. "Have Joker prep the Normandy to go, tell him we're headed to Eden Prime, then Palaven. Liara and I need to check out this Prothean lead, but we've kept the turians waiting for too long already."

"Understood, sir," Vega replied, turning to open the airlock's hatch and disappearing along with Liara inside.

"Shepard," Shala's voice greeted him from behind, and he turned to face her. "I...don't even know what to say. I'm so sor-" John held up a hand to stop her.

"No need for that, Tali filled me in on what happened." His eyes moved to meet hers, and for the hundredth time in the past two hours his heart broke for her. Rael had been a man consumed by grief and borderline madness, but when it counted, when it was life and death, he'd chosen his daughter over his own life. No matter how much they'd clashed, Shepard couldn't deny the man the clarity he'd seemed to have gained in the last moments of his life. He only wished, for her sake, that he could help her through her loss. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "How's it looking with the geth? Any sign of...?"

"None, that we can tell," Tali replied, understanding his question. "We've asked the geth if they have an organized leadership, or a unit in charge of operations, but the best answer we've been able to get is that they're working on an organizational structure. When I mentioned Legion...they just say 'he is within us all'." She paused for a moment. "I'm...not entirely sure what that means, or how it could work in the context of the geth mind, but...it seems that Legion sacrificed himself to wake up the geth."

John nodded, looking out a nearby viewport into the inky black of space. He couldn't explain it, but the pain of Legion's death was as real as if any of his crew had died. It gnawed at him, and he pushed it away, returning his gaze to Shala. "And the admiralty board?"

"Well without a need for admirals in charge of a Fleet, it appears we'll be transitioning into more of a traditional government. Files that we have from the times of our ancestors indicate a similar group of leaders called a Conclave; it's likely where we first had the idea for the admiralty board. The three of us will recreate it, with one or two potential additions."

"Oh?" John replied.

"Yes," Shala said, her voice belying amusement. "Kal'Reegar is actually being tapped for one of the positions, although who knows how he'll respond to the request. Han tried to offer a spot to Tali as well, but I'm sure you can figure out how that went." John smiled at Tali, and a quiet moment passed between the three of them. Tali crossed to him, taking his injured hand in hers.

"We should really have Chakwas look at this before it gets any worse than it already it. Shala, will you keep me updated on what's happening here?"

"Of course, chi-" she began before catching herself. "Of course, Tali." The two of them said their goodbyes and turned to enter the hull. "And Tali?" Shala called out once more. They turned back to meet her gaze, her hands folded at her stomach, and she continued. "Your mother...and Rael...they'd be very proud of you."

Tali looked up to John, then back to Shala. "I..." she replied hesitantly. Her hand squeezed his tightly. "I know."


	12. A Moment in Time

***Author's Note***  
Hello again, lovely people, and thanks for once again tuning in to read  
my latest chapter! We're moving along here, having finally wrapped up  
the Rannoch line for the moment. Also, for anyone interested, I made a post  
on the fanfiction subreddit hawking my works, and someone suggested I  
set up shop on Ao3 as well as FF. So I've got an account over there now that  
I'll be updating at the same time I update here. From what I hear, Ao3 has innate  
Kindle support, so that might help if you're reading on the go!

* * *

**A Moment in Time**

_"Thank you for coming to meet with me, Toreval; I know the flight cannot have been easy."_

_Toreval walked briskly alongside the much taller Prothean as they traversed the open-air walkways on the surface of this world where his unit was stationed. Kressus, the Imperial Data Collective had called it, but Toreval had never seen the place before. Still, he could not deny its beauty. Everywhere he looked life flourished, green rolling hills with rich patches of wildflowers, and in the distance he could make out snow-covered peaks against the blue sky. Were it another time, another universe, he would have loved nothing more than to get lost in those fields. He shook the thought out of his head, taking care where he walked as they approached a construction pit. It was a large excavation, at least twenty meters to the bottom floor, and in the very center stood a metal structure, square at the base, but slimming as it grew taller and diverging into two parallel spires. He recognized the device as an archival antenna, used to continually collate and forward messages throughout the empire, effortlessly linking one side of their galaxy to the other. "You're...burying it?" he asked as they walked past._

_"Yes," the_ karash'venn _replied, not sparing a glance for the device as they moved. "The Reapers built the mass relays, we know that now, but the beacons were constructed based on notes about that technology, not directly based on it. Our hope...my hope in truth, since I'm the one who ordered them to do this...is that the Reapers will ignore the beacons, leaving them intact for the future races."_

_"But you cannot know if they will understand the message, or if even they can retrieve it," Toreval thought aloud. "I mean, the beacons operate on a subliminal mental link; we haven't even come close to attempting those kinds of trials on the races we're fostering, let alone the ones we aren't."_

_"I know," the other replied, "but I do not like the idea of placing all my hope in one plan, even one so carefully thought out as yours, Toreval." He paused then, turning to face him. "Are we still on track?"_

_Toreval shifted his stance uncomfortably. "Yes, but...we ran out of time for the Seleid planets. The Reapers got there first."_

_The_ karash'venn _scrunched up the skin above his left pair of eyes in confusion. "The species there isn't of interest to them, is it?"_

_Toreval shook his head. "No, they're still extremely primitive. The last I saw them, they were still confined to one small area of the terrain, still more animal than advanced being, in truth. But the Reapers left a token force in system, if we went in now and attempted to deploy the engine..." He trailed off, looking away once more across the lush fields and towards the mountains. Now that he thought about it, now that he let it get to him again, he couldn't help but see the stark comparison between this world and Sel Vod. His attention was brought back to the present by the other Prothean's hand landing reassuringly on his shoulder._

_"Toreval, I know Sel Vod was important to you, and I'm sorry. But the other three engines are in place, and secure?" Toreval nodded in response, and the other continued. "Good, then there's just one last piece to arrange. You have probably already received the call from the Collective for all scientists to report to Ilos."_

_"I have," Toreval responded. "Mere moments before I received your own message." The other nodded._

_"We have a mass-statis program in the works there." He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought before replying. "It...appears High Command is beginning to realize this is a war we cannot win. They have decided instead to safeguard the great minds of our civilization in order to be prepared and catch the Reapers off-guard in their next assault."_

_"Then our efforts have not been in vain," Toreval replied cautiously. "We can aid the future races personally."_

_"Yes," the_ karash'venn _said. "But I have procured five of the stasis chambers from the Ilos installation and had them brought here in secret. I...apologize, but I need you to enter stasis here, on Kressus. I understand you likely wish to be alongside the others, but if the Reapers found out about the Ilos installation, everything we've planned would fall apart, along with the remnants of our civilization. I will leave my best soldiers with you, as well as a scouting ship which has already been concealed below the ground. And..." he paused again, looking down at the metal walkway beneath them before speaking, "I'll be joining you as well."_

_"But your father..." Toreval began with unconcealed shock._

_"My father has his place, as I have mine," the_ karash'venn _replied sternly. "Our civilization will need a leader when we wake from stasis. I thought my place was here, in this time, fighting for the Empire. But with your help, with the Collective's help, I believe I can be that leader. Perhaps that is what the fates hold for me."_

_"The others...do they know of this plan?"_

_The other nodded. "They will shortly. As soon as you are in stasis, I'll be sending my second-in-command Vrek to Ilos. He will tell them of our plan, and when they awaken from stasis, they will come retrieve us. We will return to the Citadel together, and rebuild this galaxy with a singular purpose: ending the Reaper threat decisively."_

_Toreval thought about this plan as they crested a rise in the path. Above them, he could see a large opening into a cave, with gold light emanating from within. The power cores for the stasis chambers were at full capacity; it seemed the_ karash'venn _not only expected his agreement, but had no doubt he would receive it. After a moment, he sighed slightly. "It is a sound plan," he conceded, "let us get on with it."_

_"I apprecia-" the other began, before being interrupted by a loud beeping resonating from his comm device near his ear. He reached up to touch the device, and a translucent screen sprang to life across his right pair of eyes, data streaming across rapidly as audio emanated from the earpiece. Toreval was standing close enough to the other Prothean to hear what was being said._

"-forces inbound on the Kressus institute, seven confirmed signals. They know we're here, sir! Orders?"

 _"Keep them busy in the air," the_ karash'venn _growled into his comm piece, his tone shifting into a battle-hardened steel that earned him every bit of his title. "Tras team, finish covering the beacon as soon as possible, and join Garak Team in the fight." He reached up again, changing the comm channel to a different frequency before speaking again. "How much time do we have?"_

"Chamber 2 is online, chamber 1 won't be ready for another twenty minutes. The other three have been having boot-up issues; they won't be ready in time."

_The other swore under his breath. "How long for chamber 1? I need a time, and I need it to be right!"_

"Fifteen minutes if we push, but right now I'd only count on chamber 2, sir."

_The other met Toreval's gaze for a long moment before looking up to the sky, his mind racing with statistics and battle plans. When he lowered them, he spoke again. "Change of plans, Toreval. Looks like you're going to Ilos after all. Did you bring the data copy with you?" Toreval nodded frantically, reaching into his satchel and removing the small drive before handing it to the other. "Good, I'll keep this as a backup. Get back to the hangar and find Vrek by my ship; by the time you get there he'll know what to do. When you wake from stasis...come get me, Toreval." The researchers wide eyes met the other's gaze for a long moment, and for a split second he spied true fear in his four yellow eyes. "Don't leave me here to die alone."_

_"I...we...we won't," he stammered. "I promise you,_ karash'venn _." The other smiled and clapped a hand on his shoulder once more. He looked back up to where the golden light still emanated from the cave above them, then brought his gaze back around to Toreval's._

_"Javik. Just Javik, now."  
_

* * *

"I just feel like," John began as he waved his arms to keep his balance, "this would have been a lot-ah, damn it!-um, a lot easier, if the map had taken a, uh..." his mind wandered as he committed all his focus to not falling down and sliding a hundred feet on his ass.

"Less treacherous path across Eden Prime?" Liara finished for him. She was a few meters ahead of him, and seemingly descending the slope with all the grace she could muster, despite the occasional slip and muttered curse.

"Yea, exactly," John replied. They continued in silence for a minute or so before coming to the end of their trek at the base of the hill. His feet finally on solid ground, John let out a sigh, and Liara laughed.

"Commander Shepard, nearly bested by a pile of rocks," she said with a smile. "I can almost read the headlines now."

He laughed, then shrugged, pointing behind him with a thumb. "Hey, that pile of rocks just got much closer than Saren Arterius ever did; I'll tell you that much right now, with all confidence."

"Yes, had he only known your true weakness," she shot back sarcastically, then turned to take a look around. "According to Kal and Amys' notes, the 'disc' as they call it should be around here somewhere. Quarian coordinates are marked differently than ours...or yours, for that matter...but Lia assured me these are an accurate transposition."

John scanned the horizon in the opposite direction, leaning to stretch his back as he did. "You get a second opinion from Tali?" he asked aimlessly.

Liara chuckled. "No, your wife was unavailable at the time."

John's cheeks flushed and he whipped his head around to look at her. To his surprise though, she was still perusing her datapad, seemingly unaware of what she'd said. "She's ah..." he began slowly, his hand already rising to rub the back of his neck through his armor. "She's not my wife, Liara."

Liara looked up then, her face a genuine mask of confusion. "Wait...but I thought...oh by the goddess, if that's the case then I've clearly been mis-translating ' _saera_ ' for awhile now. I'm so sorry!"

John laughed a bit uncomfortably. "No, no, it's...it's fine. Honest mistake." She smiled in response, then looked back down at her datapad. When she spoke again, her eyes remained fixed on it's surface.

"So why not?"

The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he squeezed the back of his neck so tightly he thought he might break something. "Um...well I'm not sure, really. Shit, I know it's going to sound terrible but...we've both been pretty busy lately and...it...hasn't felt like the...uh...right time...yet?" He closed his eyes after speaking, knowing damn well how terrible it had sounded, but opened them when he heard Liara laughing lightly. "What's so funny?" he asked. Her eyes left the datapad, and she turned her head to address him directly.

"Sorry, Shepard, it's just...asari live for a much longer time than other species; I've already come to terms with the fact that I'll be around long after everyone else I know and love. I guess I'd just...like to see those I care about happy while I can. I'm sure that sounds selfish, but you and Tali rescued me from Therum, we defeated Saren and the Shadow Broker together, and now we're fighting the Reapers for the fate of the entire galaxy?" She paused for a moment, looking away and shaking her head before continuing. "I don't mean to be harsh, but Shepard...you could be dead tomorrow. Any of us could. And until this war is over...there's not going to _be_ a 'right time'. If it were me...I guess I'd just make the most of things while I could." She paused, and an uncomfortable silence fell between them while John processed what she'd said. After a moment that seemed like an hour, her omni-tool beeped, her datapad finished with the triangulation, and she spoke up again. "Um...come on, it's...it's over here."

They followed the signal from the calibrated device, John feeling more and more like an idiot as they walked and he continued contemplating Liara's words. He wanted to be able to give a solid reason against her argument...but he couldn't dredge one up. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't spent time considering what would happen to them once this war was over, but her words resonated with him, and he continued on beside her in silent reflection. After a long minute of walking, they came upon a flat expanse of ground, and John looked around with a startling familiarity. He'd been here before, only the last time...there had been green in the valley below, and mountains. He closed his eyes, trying to remember his recurring dream as clearly as possible, then opened them, looking for the cave. "There was a cave..." he mumbled aloud to himself as he turned in place searching for it.

"Geological readouts of the area indicate a chain of massive earthquakes in this area a couple hundred years before the humans found it," she replied as she looked through her omni-tool data, not realizing the importance of what she was saying. "If there were caves or a mountain here, it's a good chance that pile of rubble was the remnants of them."

John looked down, seeing the sun glinting off of the ground some fifty yards ahead of them, and began walking towards it. He knelt as he approached, seeing the large metal seal in the ground. It sat as large as a manhole cover, and looked just as heavy; thick steel adorned with inscription...no. Instructions. He brushed his hand lightly over the surface as Liara approached. "Incredible," she whispered, "I can tell from the markings and the relics I've studied that it's Prothean, but I don't know that I have a collection of language samples enough to decipher it."

"Actvation Sequence Initiator," he read aloud, earning from her a small chuckle.

"Right, the beacon. I have to say, Shepard, that may not ever stop surprising me. Wait!" she called out as his hand moved toward the center of the disc. A circle with three holes sat there, begging to be turned, and on the edges of the disk, three small recesses hinted at internal mechanisms. He looked up at her face, a mask of concern. "We don't know what's in there. It could be some contained virus, or a prisoner the Protheans thought too dangerous to keep on one of their own worlds, or...well, literally anything. We should run thorou-"

"Oops," John said as he turned the middle key in the seal. He looked back up at Liara, whose face now contained pure horror as she took a step back from the disc. John laughed. "Whatever it is, the information in the beacon we found here seemed to think it important that I find it. And we don't have time to waste, Liara. Earth, Palaven, Thessia, they're all burning." As if to accentuate his words, the three recesses on the outer edge of the seal began clicking and snapping away from the center, fracturing the whole disc into three equal parts. Mechanical whirring began to emanate from beneath the ground upon which they stood, and the three metal pieces began to move out and away from the center, pushing up small mounds of earth as they carved into its surface in an attempt to move away from each other.

Beneath the surface, a light green liquid sat, undisturbed for who knew how long. John leaned over slightly, attempting to look deeper into the chamber below the seal, but started backwards when a loud droning sound began calling out from beneath them. The liquid began shaking as something slowly rose from within it, and it was John's turn to step back as a large metal object began to ascend into the open air, the greenish liquid dripping off of it as it did. It looked like a large rack, crossing metal beams holding a structure as large as a small bed together, and after a moment it had risen some seven feet into the air. The mechanical whirring and groaning from within the earth stopped, and all was quiet once more. Liara stepped closer, her cautious movements belying the tension within her, and she rounded the device to see the other side.

"By the goddess..." she whispered.

"Holy shit..." John concurred as he joined her.

The metal rack stood tall above the chamber he had opened, and upon it, harnessed down to its various crossbeams, stood a creature in full battle armor. It appeared to John to resemble the Collectors in stature and structure, though where their carapace was cracked and hardened, this creature's skin was a pale green, leading up from it's neck to the dark brown of a large hardened plate at the top of his head, not unlike a krogan's. His red plate armor seemed of another time and place in its design, which made sense he supposed, it's red surface covering the creature's chest and fanning upwards at the shoulders.

"Strikingly similar to the Collectors," he mumbled aloud. "Which likely means..." he looked over to Liara, whose hand covered her mouth. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away before stepping forward to scan him with her omni-tool. As she raised the device, his four eyes shot open and he began coughing violently. The machine beeped rapidly in acknowledgment of his consciousness, and the metal harnesses released, allowing him to tumble forward. Liara stepped back in fear, and John's combat training took over. He rushed forward, bending a knee and catching the creature as he fell forward. John's shoulder caught the creature in its midsection, and he spewed vomit out in a horrible arc before falling limp across John's shoulder. For a brief moment, his face hung right next to John's, and the creature regarded him with its four yellow eyes.

"To...Toreval..." it whispered, before lapsing into unconsciousness. John laid him gently on the ground, now slightly muddied with the excess fluid running off of the creature's armor, and looked up to Liara.

"What's 'Toreval'?" he asked. She shook her head slowly in response as she lifted her omni-tool again to scan him.

"I'm...not sure, Shepard." A long moment passed before she let out a sigh. "Medical scans don't show any internal damage, he's probably just traumatized from all the time in there. Stasis technology today isn't meant for anything more than a few dozen years at best, I can't imagine..." she shook her head. "He'll need time to recover, and we should get him out of the open."

"Agreed," John said, hoisting him up and over his shoulder. "Contact the Alliance personnel at the landing dock, let them know we've got sensitive cargo coming back and need a secure path to the ship. This war just got even more complicated."

* * *

It felt soft in her hand, though she knew it was some of the hardest armor she'd likely ever seen. She turned the small piece of black armor, with its N7 logo emblazoned across its surface, over in her hand, wincing at the scoring it had endured in the Normandy SR-1's explosion. Shepard had left her alone with Shala when they'd returned to the Neema, and the admiral had given her this piece of Legion's platform, brought to her by Kal. He had been coordinating the field teams in retrieving the bodes of fallen quarians, when a Prime platform had approached them, handed the armor piece to Kal, and then turned away without a word to return to the Citadel. Kal had recognized the symbol, and brought it directly to Shala. She closed her eyes in silent remembrance for her fallen companion, and hoped that whatever digital landscape he inhabited now, he knew how much he had done for her.

" _Legion was an exceptional unit,"_ the voice filtered in from the small display pad near her in the Armory. It was third shift, and she stood alone in the darkened room, illuminated only by the sleep screens of the various terminals and equipment around her. Or so she had thought. She started slightly at the sound, but immediately recognized the glowing blue orb that was EDI to her left.

"Yes, he was," she replied, nodding along. "Did you two talk much? Not...that we'd have been able to tell, I imagine."

 _"We did,"_ the AI replied. " _He had many existential questions, and a keen interest for my digital composition."_ EDI paused for a moment before continuing, as if deep in recollection. " _I believe he intended to collate the geth runtimes within himself as a trial run, of sorts, before attempting to spread that information to the others._ "

"Do you think... _keelah,_ do you think he's still out there?"

" _Yes, although I wouldn't be able to say in what form or capacity. If enlightening the geth required Legion to disperse itself into their collective consciousness, it would also require the code that comprised Legion as we knew him; individual copies for each platform. If thought about in these terms, it would not be incorrect of the geth to say he is within them all, as he may literally be."_

"Well...that's some consolation, I suppose," she mumbled, continuing to stare down at the scrap of armor. "Thanks, EDI."

" _Of course,"_ the AI replied, her glowing blue orb winking out of existence over the pad.

Tali placed the scrap of armor back into a pocket of her own, resigning to give it to Shepard as another memento for his desk. She didn't particularly want it to remind him of the loss every time he walked past, but he would want to hear the news at the very least. She left the Armory, entering the quiet of the CIC. The soft orange glow of the haptic crew terminals on the sides of the room gave some light to the area, but the main glow came from the light blue galaxy map, silently spinning in the center of the room. A small set of three steps led up to a platform looking over the device, with guard rails all around it. John leaned against one of those rails, arms crossed in front of him as he stared down into the map below. She stopped in her tracks, surprised to see him here, but after a moment picked her pace back up, walking up the short flight to join him as she leaned against the opposite railing. "If I had to guess who would be up with me at this hour, I'd have put all my credits on Lia. You know, now that Mordin is gone, anyway." She saw him smile at her words, and he nodded as he turned to regard her.

"Yea that'd be a pretty safe bet. You live with someone long enough, I guess you start adapting to their schedule. I don't think I could get back to sleep if I tried."

"Sorry," she whispered. He shrugged in response.

"Lets me get caught up on...well, everything I guess." He turned, and she saw the datapad he'd been holding. Information in a strange language streamed across it, symbols she didn't understand and which her optical sensor was unable to translate for her. He saw her looking at it and sensed her confusion. "Heard about our newest passenger?"

"I heard rumors from the crew," she replied. "I figured if they were true then you'd have your hands busy for awhile, and if they were false there was no point in bothering you. Plus after everything on Rannoch...I just needed some time alone. I was actually just talking with EDI about Legion."

"Did she find something?" he asked with barely-concealed excitement. She shook her head.

"No, just...reassurances I suppose. Back on the Neema, Shala...she...she said the geth gave Kal this." She pulled the N7 armor plate out of her side pouch and offered it to him solemnly. He took it from her gingerly, and her hands returned to their familiar place, intertwined in front of her stomach in quiet concern for his reaction. He turned it over once in his hand, studying its marred surface before nodding slowly and reaching back to tuck it behind his belt.

"He was a good friend," he whispered, staring into the ever-swirling blue of the galaxy map. She let a long pause hang in the balance before speaking again.

"EDI says she thinks he's still out there, in one form or another." His chuckle caught her off guard.

"Yea I'm sure he is. Last time I saw someone fighting that hard to keep their people alive was..." he trailed off, and her gaze lifted to meet his, and the smile that split his lips not far below it. "Those kind of people are survivors."

She allowed herself a small smile of her own, and her head tilted slightly in acquiescence. "Yea, I suppose we've got that in common too."

He held her eyes for a long moment, then brought his datapad back around to bear, looking onto its surface and sighing in frustration. "I can...I mean I can make out every third word or so, but it's moving too fast. Chakwas and Liara are working together to monitor his vitals as best they can based on information Liara's dug up about them, but I wouldn't guess he's coming around any time soon." He let his hand holding the datapad fall to his side and leaned back against the railing, closing his eyes. She frowned for a moment, watching as this war that had only just begun claimed more and more of his soul, and her heart broke for him. She stepped forward, embracing him tightly, perhaps too tightly for anyone without a great deal of metal reinforcing their skeleton, and closed her eyes as she rested her head on his chest. He returned the gesture willingly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing her back as he spoke.

"For what?" she replied, the words tumbling out of her mouth with little control as she reveled in his touch.

"At the moment? This war occupying my every waking hour, almost dying on Rannoch, and...if I've neglected you." The last bit sounded pained, and she pushed back, holding him at arm's length with a sincerely confused expression on her face.

"What do you mean? _Keelah_ , you just saved my entire species from wiping itself out **and** gave us our homeworld back in one big package." She laughed lightly, but it halted abruptly as his expression remained solemn. "John, that's the exact opposite of neglect."

He shook his head. "I don't mean your people, Tali. I mean you." He looked away for a moment, then returned his eyes to hers. "Liara said something back on Eden Prime that really...struck me, I guess. I don't know, I just keep feeling like we need some time to ourselves, but it doesn't seem to come."

She nodded absently, understanding his meaning. The trauma of almost losing him had nearly driven her insane, but in the time since he'd been back the mission had needed to take priority. She smiled at the thought that as soon as the mission was resolved the only thing he wanted to do was be alone with her, and stepped closer to him again. She reached out to take his wrist in her hand, activating his omni-tool and hailing the bridge.

" _Yes, Captain?"_ Lia's voice filtered through the device. Tali looked up into John's confused stare as she spoke.

"Lia, it's Tali. What's our ETA to Palaven?"

" _Umm..."_ she trailed off, and a moment of silence hung in the air as she checked the astrogation readouts. " _Looks like about seven hours, including relay jumps. Do we need to alter course?"_

 _"_ No, just curious. Thanks Lia," she replied before tapping the control to end the call. Silence fell around them once again, broken only by the soft humming of the power conduits running all the deck's terminals and the galaxy map. She let it linger before speaking to him again. "I don't blame you for any of this. Our job is to be out here doing the impossible, saving the galaxy, making sure there's a tomorrow for all of us."

"Tall order," he whispered. She nodded in reply. She inched closer, pressing her body into his, and smiling at the slow exhale that came from him in response. She reached down, snaking the datapad out of his hand and tossing it behind her onto the galaxy map's console, its haptic interface winking out at the physical obstruction.

"Yea, it is." She wrapped her arms around him, running them up his back as she pulled him closer. "But it looks like we've got the next seven hours to remind each other what's waiting on the other side of all this."

Her eyes bored into his with a fire that only he knew of, a passion only he had ever seen, and he smiled in reply. He threw his weight forward, scooping her up as he stepped down the short flight of stairs. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, and he kissed her neck as they approached the lift. He called it with an elbow, tapping the interface and waiting for it to come down to fetch them. His affections earned a quiet laughter from her, and as the lift approached, Liara stepped out of the Research Lab, clearly aiming to use it as well. Tali gasped, and Liara stopped in her tracks as she looked up to see the two of them intertwined. Tali buried her visor into his chest in embarrassment, and he coughed sharply, neither of them moving an inch.

"You, ah...going down?" he called out to the asari. She grinned in response, leaning against a nearby terminal and folding her arms in mock annoyance.

"No that's alright," she said quietly. "I think I'll catch the next one." She gave John a knowing smile, then turned and headed into the labs, leaving them alone again as the lift opened. He moved in, closing it behind him and pressing the key for Deck One. She groaned against his chest, and he laughed again.

" _Keelah_ , that was so embarrassing!" she cried out as the lift began to ascend. He held her outwards, looking into her visor with his best winning smile.

"You think you're blushing now?" he asked with a wicked grin. "Give me five minutes."


	13. The Fight Within

****Author's Note****  
Hey everyone! Here's another chapter for you to take in on this  
fine Sunday, setting up some characters I'll be bringing in later on  
once the big bout gets going. Let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 11: The Fight Within**

The small freighter drifted through the empty space between worlds, and throughout it's handful of corridors the only sound was the hollow humming of the sub-light engines hard at work propelling the craft toward it's destination. On the bridge, sensor readings indicated no other ships in the immediate vicinity, and the ship's pilot breathed a soft sigh of relief as she finally allowed herself to relax from the tension she'd felt since coming out of the relay. She leaned back into her seat, craning her head back to look up at the bulkhead as she rested against the seat back. She closed her eyes for a moment, reflecting on the previous weeks. She hated leaving home, but someone had to make the supply runs, and she was, for various reasons, the best at the job. She understood, but still...she always missed home.

She leaned forward again, opening her eyes to look down at her navigational charts as more of a formality than anything else. She didn't need the computer to tell her what she could see with her own eyes. Before her through the freighter's viewport loomed the rough, weather-beaten surface of Utukku. The smile found its way to her lips, and she took manual control, piloting the craft through the atmosphere and bracing her thin asari frame against the ship's shaking in the harsh winds of the outside atmosphere. After a few minutes of battling against her own ship, she set it down atop a wind-beaten mesa and killed the engines. Standing at long last, she took her helmet from the co-pilot's seat and secured it on her head. Perhaps one day she would no longer need it, but that day was not today. She walked back through the ship, packed with cargo of all kinds, eventually finding the access hatch and pressing the interface key to open it. The side hatch slipped upwards and away with a _hiss_ , and she stepped out of the ship onto the planet's surface.

They came immediately, no fewer than a dozen of them, burrowing up from underneath the planet's surface. They rushed to meet her, their feelers touching her hands, shoulders, and legs in welcome and affection. They chirped with excitement at her return, and she beamed beneath her helmet, reaching out to brush her hand along their carapaces in return.

"I've gotten everything she asked for," she said to them, and they began filing into her ship to retrieve the cargo. "Is she expecting me?"

One of them wrapped a feeler around her left arm, pulling her gently away from the shuttle and down into the tunnel that had borne it out upon the mesa. She ducked her head to follow as it pulled her gently along, it's tentacle ever steadfast. It knew she required the help, she thought with a bitter taste. The drone seemed to sense her agitation and squeezed her arm lightly in support, and a smile once again found its way to her lips. How had it come to pass, what galaxy did they all live in, that these creatures could be hated so thoroughly by so many? She shook her head in disbelief as all around her the ambient light from the surface faded; the tunnel winding ever forward in front of them. Not long after, pure darkness enveloped her, and while she could feel the openness of the chamber which she passed through, only the tentacle wrapped around her arm could offer any hope of safely traversing it. Her helmet had a flare light on it, but out of respect she chose to leave it off, agreeing instead to be led around wherever she needed to go. The queen had asked her why she didn't use it, and her reply had been met not with amusement or incredulity, but with a profound acceptance and deep respect. She felt truly at peace within the rachni, and was pleased that they seemed to admire her respect for them.

A bend in the corridor brought the pair of them to the entrance of a gargantuan central chamber, and her eyes widened as they did every time she beheld it. Bio-luminescence from crystal blue pods dangling from the walls and ceiling engulfed the room in a cool blue light, and the hundreds of rachni that moved about in the traffic lanes within seemed to her like rushing streams of water; ever flowing, not pausing for anything. She was led around an arcing pathway, though to her great delight her guide had let go of her arm when they'd entered, and at long last they passed by a pair of large creatures, neither of which made any move to impede her path, and into the queen's chambers. She rested peacefully in the corner of the room, similar in its blue hue to the central chamber beyond her door. When they entered, her eyes opened, and the familiar, warm voice permeated her mind.

" _Far Voice, you return to add your song to the chorus."_

She smiled. "Yes, I was able to find everything the colony needs for the next few months, although I'm unsure how we'll restock after that. Things in the galaxy have...taken a turn for the worse, mother."

" _Your song is deep and sorrowful,"_ the voice replied, concern clear in it's tones. " _Sing us your song, Far Voice. And we will chime together to ease its sadness."_

Taking a breath, she began to speak, the words rolling from her mouth as if she'd planned the entire conversation. She hadn't. The mother just had that effect on you; you wanted to tell her everything, you wanted her guidance, her strength. She spoke at length of the fall of Earth, the collapse of the batarians, and the return of the Reapers. The mother's eyes widened by a hair at the last part, and she broke away her gaze, seeming to stare past her young asari child, out into the central chamber, into the swarms of her people that had been preparing for this. "Mother?"

" _I must join all the voices of our people in song, we must reach a pitch and crescendo to purge those who would sour the songs of all people. Long ago...I sang a long and intricate tale; of freedom granted, and a promise kept. The song returns to its beginning. A promise must be kept."_

* * *

Cigar smoke filled the cramped room, wafting above the heads of the men smoking, bouncing off of the low ceiling, and falling slightly to commingle in the air above the table, giving the entire room a pale haze about it as they spoke. Not to say the room was small, but it was cramped, and he liked it that way; preferred it that way. It kept people from feeling they had the option of staying any longer than they absolutely needed to, but this group of fuckers didn't seem to take the hint.

"It's not some hoax, I've seen the vids!" Gerrok growled across the table, his four eyes narrowing as he spoke. "I'd be the first to tell you I haven't called Khar'shan home in a long time, but they wiped out my people. I went from a nobody to a member of a fucking endangered species in a couple days; you don't make that shit up."

"Alright, Jesus," the human across the table from him replied, his hands raised in mock surrender. "No one's calling _you_ a liar. Just don't see how it affects our business is all. If anything, we start making more credits; riskier job and all that shit."

"It won't be that simple, Aren," Zaeed replied, reaching forward to smash out the rest of his cigar into the ashtray in the center of the table. "First off, they're fucking real alright, I've seen the damned things with my own eye. And second, they're only working over Citadel space. Nothing of value out here besides Ilium, and I reckon it'll take them a fucking long time to get to that."

"Right but they will eventually," Aren shot back. "Then we raise our prices, yea? I mean if we're dodging Reapers we'll have to be compensated. That goes without fucking saying, man."

Zaeed stared into the ashtray, watching the last wisps of smoke trail up and away from the stub of his cigar. He'd promised himself when he took over the Suns that he'd do two things: Take them legit, and have them ready for Shepard's call if it came. Now that the bloody Reapers were back, it seemed more a matter of when than if. After a moment, he looked Aren in the eyes. "You let me worry about that. I imagine by the time they get to Ilium, we'll have bigger problems than a rate hike." He let it sink in for a moment and then stood, wordlessly signaling that their meeting had adjourned. The other men took the hint, standing after him and nodding their respect before leaving the room. The door hissed shut behind them, and Zaeed let out a low sigh.

He walked around behind his chair, through a small passage between two stacks of crates that was difficult to see if you weren't actively looking for it, and into the open expanse of the rest of the room. It widened out to a space three times as large as what they'd just been sitting in, with his bed, workbench, and a small alcove for the washroom off to the side. The far wall consisted almost entirely of a single large viewport, looking out into the interior of Omega's spire. Peering downward, he could see for about thirty levels. That was barely a quarter of the space that comprised the station, but he knew that even on levels outside of his view, the Suns maintained order.

And order they had, he thought as he crossed over to his private comm terminal. Zaeed had taken the first shuttle back to Omega after disembarking the Normandy, quickly taken control of the leaderless Blue Suns, and began his work eradicating the Blood Pack and Eclipse from every inch of the station. Other leaders might have chosen to make deals with the other gangs, but not Zaeed Masani. He had killed any who fought, and recruited those who didn't, making the Blue Suns stronger than it had ever been almost overnight. He'd then applied their newfound strength to more legitimate enterprises, mainly the escorting of trade ships through rough sections of space. Business had been good, and while he'd first thought that fighting with the other gangs, or pirates attacking their escort ships would have been the trickiest thing to deal with in all of this, he'd been mistaken. The comm terminal sprang to life, her voice filling the rest of the room.

" _Done with your meetings?_ " Her voice was lead and silk at the same time, its tone implying an almost sensuous interest, but underneath it a complete lack of sincerity. She didn't give a shit about his work or the Blue Suns' cleaning house on her station, as long as she got her cut. Zaeed could respect that, and imagined it was one reason their relationship had stayed at a respectful standard.

"Yea," he replied gruffly, pulling his dark blue shirt over his head. The red lights of Omega's inner spire filtered in through the large viewport and danced across the multitude of scars that laced his body. He'd earned every one, and they were more a mark of his character than any words he could say. "Business as usual, for the time." A long pause hung on the other end of the line before she spoke.

" _And when Shepard calls?_ "

"I'm a man of my word, Aria," he replied, tossing the shirt onto his bed nearby. "The Reapers are fucking real, alright, and they won't stop with Council space. When Shepard calls, the Suns move out."

" _I'm not about to let my entire security force abandon Omega to fight monsters,_ " she replied, slightly stronger than before. " _The Reapers are out there, but we've got plenty of problems here on the station, and I don't exactly run a military up here."_

"I'll leave a token force behind if that'll ease your mind, but this day's been coming since I got here."

" _I'm aware. Didn't think your superstitions would actually take hold. I thought we had a good thing going here._ " Her insinuations irritated him. There was clear evidence that the Reapers were real, and terrorizing the core worlds as they sat out here doing nothing. He shook his head, some people would never learn until it was too late.

"Guess you should have planned for it, then." He tapped the interface, closing out the comm channel. She wouldn't be happy about that, likely furious if he knew her, but he didn't care. She wouldn't do anything to him with the presence the Suns had here, and he'd be leaving soon in any event. Besides, with a brusque sign-off like that from him, she'd know she had crossed a line. He stepped into the shower, letting the scorching hot water race down across him, and closed his eyes, drinking in the moment. He'd be getting the call any day now, this might be one of the last hot showers he'd ever take.

Until then, it was business as usual.

* * *

It was well past dawn, but he still hadn't changed the full-tint on the window yet. He hadn't felt a reason to. He stared down into the unfeeling, unforgiving orange screen of his datapad, and the perpetual scowl he'd worn since opening it hours earlier returned in full force to his face. The full-force retreat had started in the early hours of the morning, and he'd made sure to be awake to watch the casualty numbers trickle in. They streamed in various data tracks across the screen, ever rising, each number pouring more blood onto his already-crimson hands. How many would die today to protect the capital? How many would lose their lives never knowing it was a single turian who sent them headlong into the Reapers' butchering? And where the _fuck_ was Shepard? He set the datapad down on the small table beside his chair, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rest them for a moment. He'd looked into every scenario, every option, but still...

The sound of shuffling from the bed caught his attention, and he looked over to see her still fast asleep, if tossing slightly. The sheets were wrapped around her torso, but her legs stuck out from beneath, and she subconsciously intertwined them to fight for more heat. He stood and crossed quietly over to her, pulling the sheets even and tucking them down around her exposed legs. His eyes wound their way up her body and came to rest on her face, the picture of serenity as she slept. Her hair was another story entirely, a sprawling mess. He smiled weakly, reaching out a hand to brush it away from her face and back onto the pillow. He watched her for a long moment, wondering if her feelings for him were everything he wanted them to be; wondering if they would change upon realizing just how many people he'd sentenced to die on this otherwise peaceful and quiet morning.

He couldn't lose her. After Omega, after the Collector base...she was one of the very few people in the galaxy left whom he truly loved. The others...well, he wasn't sure what to make of them. His eyes lost focus, and he recalled the message he'd received confirming relocation of his family to the compound. Hell, if he opened the message again and actually checked to see where they were being lodged, it would likely be less than a five minute walk for him, and yet he'd withheld. But it had been too long, and he supposed he would have to see them at some point. His eyes moved back to her, and he wondered if she'd go with him, or if he should even ask her. After a long moment, his thoughts were interrupted.

"You staring at me again?" she mumbled, shifting slightly, and though her eyes didn't open a small smile worked its way across her lips.

"Yea, just a little," he whispered. "Sorry I didn't want to wake you."

"Well I'm not quite there yet," she replied. "Is it time to get up yet?"

He smiled down at her. "No, not yet. I'm just going to..." he paused, then made his choice, "meet with one of the generals. I'll be back in a bit." She mumbled her assent, and he stepped away, grabbing his jacket and leaving their room.

He followed the many passages throughout the complex, reading the message on his omni-tool as he went, and after a few minutes found his way into a large open common area on the ground level. People of all species, mostly turians but some traders or diplomats caught on Palaven in the Reapers' first assault, milled about the area, and turians in military dress rushed here and there, doing their best to ensure their guests were well taken care of. A large overarching domed glass ceiling poured light into the area, and the smells of early-morning meal preparation wafted at him from all sides. He spent some time wandering through the area, acknowledging the passing salutes of many enlisted turians, and somewhat embarassingly enjoying the hushed whispers and curious glances he received as he passed by foreign members of the refuge. He passed by a group of humans, one of whom looked so shockingly like Monteague that he almost stopped in his tracks. The man consoled his worried wife while resting both hands on the shoulders of a young daughter, and his heart broke for the families his team members would never see again. He felt responsible for their deaths all over again, and quickly moved on. Further along, he passed by a quarian clutching his luggage perhaps a bit too tightly, and an asari speaking quietly with a batarian. The batarian's shoulders shook, whether with sorrow or rage, or perhaps a mixture of both, Garrus couldn't tell. After a long moment, he found himself in front of a large window looking out over the military training grounds. In the distance, soldiers rushed everywhere, prepping assault vehicles for departure and running maintenance teams to fighters that had landed in for repairs. The damage the ships had sustained was incredible, not a single one of them looking fit for a museum much less active duty. As he stared out, he was interrupted by a gruff voice behind him.

"Commander Vakarian," it began, and paused. Garrus knew the voice, knew it's owner, but dread and shame kept him pinned in place. The voice continued, and Garrus could hear considerable effort being put into its resolve. "First Lieutenant Vakarian, reporting." Garrus mustered up all the strength he had in him and turned around to see the scarred and weathered face of his father. The elder Vakarian stood at a military rest, his hands clasped at the small of his back, feet slightly spread. It had been...years...but his father didn't seem to have aged a day.

"At...at ease, Lieutenant," Garrus responded, and his father smiled as he relaxed his stance. "Father...I'm..." he began, but the man held up a hand to stop him.

"You're a hero," his father replied quietly. "You're my son. And I'm glad to see you, no matter how long it's been." Garrus nodded, then stepped forward and embraced his father, who returned the gesture.

"It's been too long," he replied. "Far too long." He stepped back from the gesture, and both turians stepped up to the window. "How is mother faring? And Solana?"

His father shook his head. "Your mother has good days and bad days. Lately they've been mostly good, but..." he faded out, his pride forbidding him to speak of personal pain, even to his own son. Garrus silently thanked the spirits that he hadn't inherited that trait from his father. "Solana has been incredible. She carries the weight and never complains, never wishes for less. She reminds me of you, in that way." He turned to smile at his son, and Garrus felt five years old again, praise from his father being the most important thing in his life. He shook his head.

"She's got a much harder job than I ever did," he whispered. His father nodded.

"Perhaps, but duty calls us all to different paths. All that matters is that we are ready to accept the challenge when it comes."

"Father, I know you would never ask, but the Hierarchy has treated me well. If you need assistance..." he trailed off as he looked past his father's shoulder, to a small table along a side wall of the large building. A single chair sat occupied by a woman in Alliance civilian dress. The plain blue t-shirt with its Alliance logo peeked out from under a black leather jacket, with dark colored pants and black boots to match. Her hands held a small cup, steam rolling off the top of it. It would be tea, or whatever they had here that passed for it, green as grass and hotter than the core of a star. The steam wafted up from the cup, tracing a loose veil in front of a dark-skinned face with piercing brown eyes. Her black hair, though pulled back in a ponytail, would have reached down to the base of her neck if let free, just barely covering up the trio of small marks in her skin there.

His father took advantage of his lapse in speech. "Garrus, the Hierarchy cares for all turians, especially those of its most loyal families. Your mother is well-cared for, I promise you. I did not come here to talk of things we cannot control."

"Of course, father," he replied.

"I came to remind you of who you are, of where you come from, and of what you fight for." He met his father's gaze and saw a deep pride within. "You have stood in defense of this entire galaxy, every turian, human, asari...all of us. I know sooner or later you will have to leave Palaven to fight on that scale once more. I can feel it."

Garrus shook his head. "This is different. This isn't just one Reaper, it's all of them. It's...it's Palaven."

"And yet," his father interrupted. "You will leave. Know that we want this, we count on it. We know the larger part you have to play. Every turian dreams of the chance to fight for his entire species, much less the entire galaxy. You are our offering to the galaxy, the face of the turian people in this conflict. Do not fight that responsibility, Garrus. Embrace it, and thrive in the heat of conflict as I always knew you would."

Garrus stared into his father's gaze, perhaps for the last time. Who knew where Shepard would whisk him away to once he'd saved Palaven, who knew if he'd end up like Jacob or Samara when this was all said and done. He glanced back to where he'd seen Kasumi, and found her still there. She sat amidst the ever flowing tide of people milling about the room, but every time one broke his line of sight for a moment, she'd still be there when they passed, her eyes transfixed on him; stoic, never-failing. He drew strength from her presence, and looked back at his father, the turian whose approval he had sought his entire life; approval he now held in the palm of his hand.

"I will. And father, no matter what happens...just..." The elder turian clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"We love you too, Garrus," he whispered. "We always will."

Garrus fought to restrain his pain from rising to the surface, and embraced his father once more. The turian squeezed him with a strength Garrus had never known, then released him and nodded before turning and walking off, slowly disappearing into the ebbing crowd. Garrus turned back to the window, looking out over the training grounds and pressing down everything inside; a turian attempting desperately to close a hull breach with a bandage. He closed his eyes, and after a moment he felt her there next to him. He could smell the tea, hear the soft creaking of her leather jacket, but he didn't need those things to know when she was next to him. She just was.

"Some shower," she whispered, and he opened his eyes again, turning to see her sipping from the cup. Her eyes were waiting for him, though, locking onto his as soon as he turned.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I...didn't know how that was going to go, and I ju-"

"You don't have to apologize," she interrupted. "I understand. I'm not upset, Garrus." She took another sip from the cup and shivered briefly. He wondered if it was from the heat or the taste. "I still don't really know what this is...what we are. But...I guess I'm not surprised that it's clearly not up to the 'meet the parents' level of intimacy yet. Besides...that talk looked like it was a long time coming."

He paused for a long moment, looking down at her as she stared out the window. Truths made themselves evident in his mind, things he hadn't realized before but that seemed so painfully obvious now. "I know exactly what this is," he said quietly. She turned to look at him, the question readily apparent on her face. "My father just tried convincing me I needed to be out there fighting the Reapers for our entire species, the entire galaxy. He tried to give me every good reason to, but he didn't need to go to any effort. I've known what I was fighting for since the moment you and Shepard came bursting through my door on Omega."

"You charmer," she replied with a flippant smile. "I already said I'm not upset, you don't have to stand here sweet-talking m-" It was his turn to interrupt. She was trying to defuse the situation. He refused to let her.

"I love you," he cut in. "I'd fight whoever it took, as long as it took, if I knew it meant you were safe. That's all it takes to motivate me to be what they all want me to be."

Her eyes widened. "Garrus..." she whispered. "You don't have to...I mean...that's not just something you..." A sincere smile crossed his face. For the first time, he saw Kasumi Goto genuinely speechless. He had to admit it entertained him. She stopped trying to speak, and just stared into his eyes for a long moment. Eventually, she laughed softly, a resigned smile falling into place on her face as she shook her head. "I love you too," she finished. "Even though you're stubborn, half-metal, and routinely causing me bouts of rashing, swearing, and puncture wounds." She smiled, and he reached out an arm, pulling her in close. She rested her head on his chest, and he felt perfect, if just for a moment, here in the eye of the hurricane.

"Good, then I'll take you up on that offer."

She stepped back from him. "What offer?"

"Come on, I'll show you," he replied with a wicked grin. He reached down to take her hand, and led her through the crowd, her continuous questioning trailing behind him as he wound through the hallways towards where his family was lodged.

* * *

" _They're_ supposed _to be developing new weapons tech to destroy the Reapers," High Admiral Vrethik said with no small amount of venom as he walked alongside his son through the corridors of the Citadel. Explosions could be heard in its far-off recesses, echoes of the fighting that still continued as they spoke. "But I'm not sure they've kept to the plan. They need...motivation." He stopped, turning to face his son. "There is no victory for us here, Javik. I say that with the confidence only years of warfare can grant, but I am correct in it."_

_"Then perhaps..." Javik offered, then paused. His suggestions of flight, of hiding, would not be taken well, and his father was already incensed at the conflict as-is. After a moment, he shook his head, closed his eyes, and then met his father's gaze again. "Very well, I will go to them. Where should I set course for?"_

_His father nodded in approval. "Toreval is the lead researcher on the project, I've had your stealth shuttle prepared with his location. And...I am all but certain we will not see each other again, Javik." His father paused, meeting his son's eyes with a pride Javik felt he did not deserve. He raised a hand, clapping it on his son's shoulder. "Die well, my son. Die for the hierarchy, for our empire, and for all Prothean life. We live as one," he began._

_"We die as one," Javik finished for him. His father nodded, then removed his hand, and stalked up the corridor, away from his son, and towards the sounds of violence. Javik followed him with his eyes, unblinking as he looked upon his father for the last time._

His eyes snapped open, instantly greeted by the harsh white light, and he grunted as he whipped his head to the side to avoid their glare. Ringing bounced around inside his head, and he moved to sit up. The mistake made itself evident, and he lurched forward, his hands gripping the sides of the gurney in a white-knuckled clamp as vertigo slammed into him, and his stomach threatened to empty itself all over the deck of this ship. A ship. His eyes opened, slowly but eagerly, and he saw the gleaming metals, the varied mechanical instruments, and the shocked creature standing a few meters away, her datapad trembling in her hand. He recognized her from Rezthen's briefings the day before. No, he realized with cold dread, it hadn't been the day before.

"How long have I been in the stasis chamber?" he demanded of the creature. She started at his voice, and he repeated his question, standing as he did so. He towered over her, and she took an unconscious step backwards before tapping at a device on her wrist, which popped up an orange light interface, and speaking into it. Her words were foreign, silken, softly-spoken, and laced with an unnerved mix of fear and intrigue. "Answer me!" he yelled, and she made strange gestures with her hands in reply. Why wouldn't she just..."You can't understand me," he said quietly. Of course she couldn't, her people had barely been forming clan-based societies when he'd gone into stasis, but she had a look of recognition in her eyes. She clearly knew what he was, how did they not yet understand his peoples' tongue? He had but a moment to consider the thought before the doors to their room slid open and a different creature entered. Javik didn't recognize this one's species, but he knew it from the stasis chamber, when he had tumbled out into the light of this age. "Tell me you understand me, creature," he ventured. The creature seemed startled, but bobbed its head up and down, then turned to the female and spoke back and forth with her for a moment.

Javik's eyes turned to follow her as she crossed the room and accessed a nearby console. Above it, a small white orb of light sprang into existence. After a moment, it began to sound out phrases, unintelligible but all the same length. Slowly, he started to piece together certain words and phrases in the sentence repetition, and he realized what they were: dialects of his own language. Some were barely intelligible, others oddly familiar. Finally, the device spoke his own.

" _Ship_ _. Help. Translation."_

"That one," he said at the same time as the male creature had, and the orb stopped speaking. He met the creature's gaze, and the other held it for a moment before bobbing its head again, speaking once more to the female, and leaving. The doors closed behind him, and Javik turned his attention to the orb again. It sat there above its reflective surface, seemingly waiting for him. He crossed the lab, his steps more confident with each one taken, and eventually stood before it. He glanced over to the female, then back to the orb. "Let's begin," he spoke to the device.

" _Good. Identify. Please."_

A series of images began to flash before him, and he named each one in turn. After awhile they became small videos, interactions between people he was asked to describe. Time wound onward, and he continued speaking fervently with this tiny glowing orb; for the moment the only creature in the galaxy who understood him.


	14. The First and Greatest Step

****Author's Note****  
Hey everyone! Enjoy this latest chapter while I keep spending the weekend  
working! I'll try to have another one up ASAP!

* * *

**Chapter 12: The First and Greatest Step**

He wrapped his arms around her small torso again, squeezing her gently against him as the steam clouds rolled and cascaded about them. She pressed her back into him and leaned her head back. Her eyes were closed, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly in bliss, and he leaned forward, kissing the skin of her bare neck. Her cobalt-blue skin, normally cool to the touch, met his lips with a warmth only their shower's hottest setting could provide. He'd been a soldier for the larger portion of his life, used to roughing it in any circumstance, and as such had taken many more cold showers than hot ones. He didn't quite understand how someone could prefer the water being this hot. Still, regardless of his own personal preferences, she always liked it scalding.

She turned in his grasp to face him, and his eyes tore themselves free of his mind's control, looking up and down her body in barely-contained desire. She laughed at him, then leaned in and kissed him. When she pulled away, she held his bottom lip in her teeth, one of her sharper canines digging into the flesh on the inner side of his lip. She let it go after a moment, and he felt the taste of blood slowly seeping into his mouth. He grinned, turning and spitting the now-reddish saliva onto the shower floor. He looked back into her eyes, those purple rings in a sea of softly-glowing white, the whole picture wreathed in a thin veil of steam. He held her, this moment, in his mind; seared it into his memory. He was sure he would need it in the days to come.

" _Shepard,"_ EDI's voice filtered in through the comm outputs on Deck One. " _Liara has asked me to relay to you that the prothean has completed my translation mapping process and is ready for direct interaction."_

She still held her face inches away from his own, and she smiled with grim resignation. "Another time," she acquiesced, and stepped away to let him open the shower's door and step back out into the now bone-chilling air of their quarters.

"How accurate were your results?" he asked EDI aloud as he found his shirt and pulled it over his head.

" _I am reading at ninety-two percent efficiency. Most nuances of speech and turns of phrases will be untranslatable, but you should experience the same interaction aptitude as with any quarian or salarian species."_

"Ok," he replied, making for the door. "Tell her I'll be right there." As the doors to Deck One closed, he looked back to his desk, seeing datapads filled with the remnants of prothean information he'd had during the hunt for Saren, and in their glassy surfaces, the reflection of steam rolling lazily out of the head behind. The lift took its time, but eventually he crossed into Liara's makeshift lab, and the prothean turned to meet him. He was imposing, standing a full foot-and-a-half taller than John, and his four eyes sent a shiver through the man as memories of the Collector troops came flooding back. He suppressed them, extending a hand which the prothean took.

"Ah yes," it remarked, its low voice almost the guttural rumble of a krogan as its words were translated in his earpiece. "The greeting ritual." He shook John's hand awkwardly, then looked to him for confirmation. John nodded, withdrawing his hand, and the alien took the opportunity to speak again. "I am Javik of the Vrethik line, _karash'venn_ of the Sovereign Guard, and leader of the Ilos Collective. This one," he said, pointing to Liara, "tells me that name means something to you as well. Tell me, where are my people?"

John shook his head. "We found Ilos on a mission of our own, but no protheans were left alive there. We interacted with the VI keeper there, but it didn't have much insight to offer. Every stasis chamber there had been shut down to preserve higher-ranking members of your Collective one by one, until the last ran out of power. I'm sorry Javik, but as far as your species goes, you're the first and only live member this galaxy has seen since the Reapers attacked you."

To his credit, the prothean merely shook his hanging head, crossing his arms in front of his chest. After a long moment, he spoke more quietly. "Then my mission has failed. They were to wait out the storm, then come release me. Together we were to reclaim the Citadel, perhaps...start again. If they failed to wake, then I assume the Reapers already control the Citadel?"

"No," John said, a confused expression forming across his face. "A few years ago, one of our people fell under the Reapers' influence. They had sent a single entity ahead, some sort of scout for the others. This person was tasked with taking the Citadel and opening some sort of backdoor through it for the Reapers to use."

"He very nearly did," Liara added quietly. John nodded.

"But we stopped him," he finished. "The Citadel remains secure, and is probably the safest place in the galaxy right now."

Javik laughed, catching the two of them off-guard. "Then someone survived Ilos. Someone made it to the Citadel and locked it down, and if it wasn't Toreval I'll eat my medals."

"Toreval?" Liara perked up. "You knew him?"

Javik nodded. "Yes, he was a critical member of the Ilos Collective. He designed the world engines you're using." He paused, then lost the mirthful countenance in his face when he saw their confused expressions. "You haven't activated the world engines?"

"Not even sure what they are," John replied. "We have some of Toreval's notes, scavenged in prothean excavations, but no mention of anything called a world engine."

"There are three," Javik replied quickly. "One on her world," he pointed again to Liara. "One for the taller ones, birdlike and thin. Sharp teeth, mandibles. They still exist, yes?"

"Turians, yea," John replied.

Javik nodded. "And the short-lived ones, thinly built, with...how do you..." he seemed to lose his words, and lacking them he mimed from the top of his head two horns reaching far above his brow."

Liara chuckled. "Salarians, yes. Rather accurate description given you've been in stasis for thousands of years."

"We knew them only as infant races," he continued. "Her kind were barely forming tribal communities when the Reapers exterminated ours. Our battles raged in the stars while their species sat blissfully unaware. In secret, we monitored them, cultivated them, even left clues on each world to eventually point them toward the Citadel. On each of their three worlds, there was an engine created with our technology, and carefully hidden. The engine uses the planet's core to project a barrier around it's atmosphere, blocking Reaper advances while it holds. We had planned to use them to protect ourselves and flee should the Reapers return after we awoke on Ilos, and if not, to use them when we stood by your side at their return."

"What about Earth?" John asked. "The Reapers are hitting hardest there right now, if there's a way we can-"

"Sel Vod," Javik interrupted with a whisper. "I knew you looked familiar." He paused for a moment, looking away before continuing. "No, the Reapers got to your world before we could. At the time, you weren't of any interest to them, but they left a patrol large enough that we could not hope to remain unnoticed. We cancelled operations on Sel Vod once we found out. I...am sorry." John looked down at the deck, fuming at all the loss of life happening on his homeworld at that very moment. Every day, he felt more helpless to defend that which he professed to care for. "Still," Javik continued carefully, "the engines are a critical part of your war effort here. We must see them activated; I imagine this battle is not going well for you?" John met his gaze sharply, and the prothean stepped forward to face him more directly.

"Before I entered stasis, I made a promise to my team that we would finish the Reapers. We had planned to groom your species, all of you, into a galaxy-spanning united force against them. From what I've seen so far," he paused, looking around the room, "you've achieved everything we had hoped to hand to you on your own. That does you credit. Here," he said, fishing into the pockets at his belt and retrieving the data file Toreval had given him on Kressus. "This is all of Toreval's data on the engines; everything we need to get them operational. She told me you have other notes of Toreval's as well. I will do what I can to aid you in their construction and deployment, but you must get the engines online. It will buy us the time we desperately need."

John stood for a moment, looking down at the data drive in his hand. If an eons-old ghost had decided to reach through time and handed him a weapon to use in this fight, he damn sure wasn't going to waste it. He looked up and nodded his thanks to Javik, then turned to Liara. "Work with Tali, get the quarians and the geth on board. If we're going to build prothean tech we'll need the best engineers the galaxy has to offer. Show Javik the files we received from the Archivist, and get back to me ASAP with a plan for them."

"Understood, Shepard."

He turned to leave the room and looked back to Javik as he did. "Welcome back, Javik. I'm sure the Reapers will be surprised to see you."

The prothean chuckled. "If I remember my training after all that time in a pod, they'll never see me coming."

* * *

"We're really not waiting?" she asked for the third time since arriving.

Liara shook her head. "He said to arrange the meeting while he contacts Palaven. I'm sure he'd prefer to be here, but at the moment he's got other things to deal with."

"At the moment?" Tali asked, a pained chuckle accompanying the question. "When has he ever had less than ten things to think about at once?"

"Fair enough," Liara replied. She tapped furiously at her console, working quickly to establishing a QE connection with the small transmission server they'd left on the quarian homeworld. After a moment's pause, she spoke up again. "Have you had any contact with Rannoch since we left?"

Tali shook her head. "No. Believe me it's not for lack of desire. I just..." she trailed off, glancing back towards the door she'd entered through.

"...have other things to deal with?" Liara finished for her, flashing a warm smile in commiseration.

"Yes. Many other things."

The QE relay snapped to life, a blue cone of light emitting from the top of the projector. In it's field hung a circular ring, spinning slowly as the connection was established. After a few seconds of quiet, five figures materialized in the space above the device, all seated behind a crescent-shaped table in high-backed chairs. They seemed made of stone, though in the surface of the table could be seen waves and strands of steel fusing the large slabs together. Tali shook off the trance she seemed to fall into when looking upon the ancient craftsmanship of her people, and cleared her throat.

"Admirals. We've been asked by Commander Shepard to contact you regard-" her voice trailed off as she began to actually notice the two other members besides the Board. Kal'Reegar leaned forward in his seat, his elbows on the table in a focused intensity. To his left, a geth platform sat motionless in its seat, seemingly inactive were it not for the glowing light of its optical sensor twitching left and right ever so slightly to keep her and Liara both in focus. The Board seemed to pick up on her confusion, and Han'Gerrel spoke up.

"Tali, Liara, it's good to hear from you again. No doubt you're confused. Operations on Rannoch are progressing faster than we could have ever hoped. The alliance you and Shepard brokered with the geth has held up well, and we're rebuilding the ancient cities with their help."

"Yes," Zaal'Koris added. "And now that our people no longer wander the stars aimlessly, we agreed it was time for some of the old ways to reflect the new reality of our people." He paused for a moment. "Or rather, in this case, to restore an ancient establishment that was lost to us after the Morning War."

"The Conclave," Tali whispered. "Is the admiralty no more?"

"It is no longer necessary, child," Shala'Raan replied. "All of the live-ships and food storage vessels are being dismantled and reforged into a battle fleet. Shepard came to our aid in our people's time of need, and we will be ready to come to his." Beside her, Han nodded to himself in staunch agreement. "That said, the fleet still requires an admiral, and we've placed Han'Gerrel in charge of it. Zaal'Koris and I tend to the administration and health of Rannoch and her newly-returned people."

"And the others?" Liara asked.

"Ma'am," Kal'Reegar nodded to her. "They've put me in charge of ground forces.; quarian and geth, crazy as that may sound. At least until Shepard's call comes in, we're making patrol runs and keeping Rannoch safe while we rebuild her." Kaal looked at the geth on his left, and after a short pause it seemed to realize that its turn to speak had arrived. The model was clearly a prime unit, as its optical sensor easily sat a foot higher than the heads of the other Conclave members. The QE feed stripped all colors and fed them into shades of blue, but she could clearly see some sort of diagonal markings on the unit's chassis, similar to a sash or drape of office.

"I am Centurion, champion of the New Geth. The Creators have granted us a place at their leadership table, and we are grateful for their consideration. I speak on behalf of all geth, and relay their will to the Conclave. We know of you, Tali'Zorah, and are grateful to meet you." A small silence hung in the air after it finished speaking, and the metal flaps around its optical sensors flared slightly. Tali smiled as she recognized the behavior from Legion.

"Likewise. I'm happy to see Rannoch is at peace again. We are sorry to have to ask for your help so soon, but-"

Shala'Raan cut her off with a raised hand. "Apologies are unnecessary, Tali. The quarian and geth people are here to help in the fight against the Reapers. All else can wait. Tell us, what do you need?"

Tali looked over to Liara, who nodded and took a deep breath. "A short while ago, we received information that led us to the human colony world of Eden Prime..."

* * *

The Normandy came to rest gently on the weathered and beaten landing pad. All around them a few miles out, fire and smoke dominated the landscape, buildings burned out and destroyed as the forward line had been steadily moved further and further back. John grimaced as he saw it, the gravity and scale of this nascent war descending once more upon him. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as he turned his head to the walkway and saw two familiar faces.

"Garrus, Kasumi, good to see you again."

Kasumi nodded to him in return, and Garrus extended his hand, which John shook. "Likewise, Shepard. Wish it were under better circumstances."

"Me too. Looks like you guys have been putting up one hell of a fight here."

Garrus shook his head. "One hell of a retreat, maybe. We're sacrificing everything just to keep the capitol safe. Best estimates are we've got a week at most until it's overrun. We're...keeping that statistic a secret, of course. But there it is."

"What about the rest of the Fleet?" John ventured.

"Dispersed around the galaxy." Garrus pulled out his datapad to show John the information on Fleet disbursement. "When the Reapers hit, we had 40% of our strength here to fight back. The rest have been recalled, but they're anywhere from a few days to a week out. By then I'm not sure there will be much left to save."

"I think we might be able to help you with that," John replied as a Javik stepped out of the ship's airlock. He walked unsteadily, but quickly regained his composure and drew the hood he wore further around his face. As he approached, Garrus's eyes widened, and John responded to the shock. "Yea, it's been an eventful week. This is Javik, and he's got some plans I think you should really see."

* * *

"It still makes me nervous," the large voice to his right growled as they walked along the earthen corridor. Wrex shook his head.

"Of all the things that could unnerve you, Jrath," he said mockingly, "I'd have hardly thought it could be a tiny salarian with a spaceship."

"If the other races learn what has come to pass on Tuchanka, and what we plan to do..." he began, and Wrex stopped to face him.

"I know the risk, Jrath. And I have to take it. For our people." After a long moment, Nakmor Jrath nodded, and they continued, walking past two guards into a one of the many underused subterranean hangar bays. An alien shuttle sat there, and Wrex was faced with four pairs of large oval eyes as he walked in. "Captain," he greeted their leader, "welcome to Tuchanka."

"Not something I'd have expected to ever hear in my lifetime, Clan Chief," the other replied. He had been inspecting one of the shuttle's thrusters, and wiped his hands on a rage before stepping closer to meet Wrex. "Sorry for the mess, we had a rough way in with the winds."

Wrex waved away his apology. "Not a problem. We like a little mess around here."

"Tavas Kirrahe, Captain in command of this squad," the salarian replied, extending his hand. Wrex shook it.

"You seem to already know who I am, I imagine Mordin made it clear." Kirrahe nodded.

"Doctor Solus is well-regarded among the STG, and for what it's worth I never approved of salarian intervention in krogan affairs. When we heard his plans here, and rumors of yours, we were all too willing to help. Although the Dalatrass and our government would likely have our heads for it if they found out."

Wrex chuckled. "Well I won't tell them if you don't." Kirrahe flashed him a brief smirk.

"That's what we're counting on. Mordin tells me you're looking to get a united krogan back into the stars. Any other salarian would balk at that, Chief, but I've seen what the Reapers are capable of on the vid feeds and in person; this isn't a war we're going to win by holding to old grudges."

"Agreed," Wrex replied, and waved the Captain to walk with him. "Jrath, make sure they have what they need for the return flight." The other krogan nodded to him as the two of them left the hangar and walked through the krogan compound. All around them krogan moved hurriedly, and in the plains outside Urdnot Hold, the large outlines of starships could be seen rising above the dust and bones of the Tuchankan surace. Wrex allowed the silence to let Kirrahe survey his operations objectively, and though a few krogan approached him with order confirmations and updates, they were respectful to him, and hurried off quickly to perform their tasks.

"They show you a great deal of respect," Kirrahe said as he inspected a series of ration packs about to be sent to the waiting ships.

"I paid dearly for it," Wrex replied quietly, and Kirrahe nodded, then turned to face him.

"We usually do. Though, not all of us in the krogan way." He paused for a moment, looking around before speaking again. "You clearly have them in command, but what is your end-game, Clan Chief? Say I signal my cargo ships to drop from orbit and hand over all the eezo cores you need to get this armada into space. What do you do with it?"

"We show the galaxy our strength, and our worth, Captain. We hit the Reapers as only the krogan can, wherever we can do the most damage."

Kirrahe chuckled. "Well I hate to be the bearer of awkward news, but at the moment, that's Palaven."

Wrex bristled internally at the thought of helping the turians, but didn't let it show. He had promised his people the war to dwarf all others they had fought, a battle in the stars so glorious that they would be heralded for thousands of years afterwards. If he had to work with turians to make it so, he would. "Then we make for Palaven," he replied, "and crush the Reapers as they have their backs turned to us." Kirrahe stared at him for a moment, then nodded, pulling up his omni-tool and sending the signal.

"My shuttles will be touching down near the ships," he said, gesturing to the warships in the plain across from them. "They'll have everything you need for a fleet the size Mordin told me about. I had my second-in-command leave my personal contact information with your councilor; let me know if you need anything more, though I can't promise anything."

Wrex nodded. "I understand. The krogan aren't known for needing favors to get by, but when we take one, we never forget it. When this is over, my people will sing songs about you, Captain."

Kirrahe let out a small chuckle. "Well just make sure it's something you can dance to." A band of three krogan approached and remained a respectful distance away, and Kirrahe nodded in their direction. "It appears you're needed rather urgently, Clan Chief. I'm sure I can find my way back." He nodded, turned to leave, and after a few steps called back over his shoulder. "I'll look for you on the battlefield, Urdnot Wrex."

"I won't be hard to find, Captain," the krogan called back in return. He turned to speak with the three new arrivals, and over their shoulders he could see the salarian dropships making touchdown on Tuchanka's surface. As the trio departed, their questions answered and needs met, Jrath returned to him. "Look there, Jrath," he said, pointing to his fleet, "the last stone falls into place."

"So it does," Jrath replied. "What next, Clan Chief?"

Wrex stared at the fleet for a long, quiet moment as the sun began to set on the Tuchankan horizon. "First, we call the Crush. Then, we take our destiny."

* * *

His last bite of the pear in his hand had left a spot of juice on his cheek, and he lifted a gloved hand, using his thumb to wipe it away. He looked down at the fruit with a grim satisfaction. For over three thousand years humans had been cultivating the things, allowing them to grow to fruition and harvesting them at the precise moment they would be most delicious. Three thousand years of tedious changes to how they were planted, cared for, and reaped. Three thousand years of human innovation, human intelligence; nothing else could create something so very perfect. He took the last bite, then tossed it into the waste bin near where he leaned against the wall. Far off in the distance, he could hear the hustle and bustle of the Citadel proper, but here in the diplomatic wing, all was quiet. Occasionally a page or assistant would walk past him with a quick nod, but other than that he hadn't seen a soul in hours.

His omni-tool chimed, and he glanced down to see the notification he was waiting for. He glanced around once more, then took the few steps toward the door on his right and interfaced his omni-tool with the access panel. After a few moments, its red hue turned green and the door slid open. He entered, locking it behind him, and took a seat behind the desk, propping his legs up on the table as he picked up the small holo of a smiling family on its surface. A few moments later, the door opened again, and Donel Udina stepped slowly into the room.

"Hello Councilor, or is it still Ambassador? I'm a little rusty on political titles."

"I...don't know who you are...but you shouldn't be here," Udina said hesitantly, as he sidled around the edge of the room.

Kai Leng laughed softly, holding up the picture before tossing it back on the table and standing. "Beautiful family you have there, and I bet they're very proud of you, Donel. I know I am."

"If you want something from me, you'll have to make an appointment like ever-"

"Do I appear to be the kind of person who makes appointments?" he asked coldly, and Udina paused where he stood.

"Y-you're the one who planned the attack on Councilor Anderson! I'll have you arrested!"

"We both know that was you, _Councilor_ Udina. Now, why exactly you did it, that I'm unsure of. But I have to say I admire your tenacity. Anderson was too weak, too eager to get into bed with alien filth. You, however, have always put humanity before all else. And it's for that reason I'm here to offer my support, however you may need it."

"Cerberus..." Udina whispered. He paused for a moment before shaking his head vigorously. "Get out. Get out of my office! If I ever see you again, I'll be the last person you see outside of a cell!"

Kai Leng leaned down, placing his hands on the edge of Udina's desk. "Come now, Councilor," he said, his left thumb already reaching under the desktop to place the bug, "I'm sure that if you just heard me out, we could ma-"

"I. Said. Out." Udina's face had hardened, and Kai Leng shrugged as he stood and walked toward the door.

"Have it your way. If you need my services, I'll be...around." he stepped out through the doorway and saw it immediately glow red with a smile. Shaking his head, he began to walk back down the corridor. Millennia of human evolution and yet still, sometimes people could be just so predictable.

* * *

"This isn't a plan, Vakarian, it's suicide!" the general slammed him clawed hand down on the steel table for emphasis, and the holographic image in the air above it wavered gently with the force of impact.

"I have to agree, Garrus," another spoke up. "Even if you can find this engine, and activate it, and it pushes the Reapers back, it buys us maybe a little bit of time. What do we do with it?"

"We fight back," John added in from the side of the room. "We give reinforcements a chance to get here, and we push the Reapers back. If we can save Palaven, the turian fleets can provide assistance to other worlds under Reaper assault."

"With respect, Shepard," the first general began, "you've pulled off some pretty crazy stunts in your time. But you're one ship, and a small crew. What chance do you stand to succeed where our entire military has failed?"

"Agreed," the second general said with a nod. "We need to continue to maintain the perimeter, and rescind it when we have to in order to ensure the capito-"

"No!" Garrus yelled, cutting the turian off. "I've given too many orders to pull back the line, seen too many innocent people die because, in their time of greatest need, the Hierarchy abandoned them to save their own hides." He ripped the medals they'd given him off of his dress uniform and tossed them across the table. "I've been through this story too many times to ignore what Shepard says. If he's got intel that this Prothean weapon can save Palaven, I'm going after it. And I'm not about to be stopped by the likes of you." He tapped his omni-tool, and the display winked out, then he turned to leave. John followed him, and the pair stopped when the first general stood sharply.

"Vakarian! Get back here! You'll be punished for treason if you disobey our orders!"

"If there's anyone left to punish me once the Reapers are done with this world," he called back as he reached the door, "they can feel free to try."

They walked in silence for a few minutes back toward Garrus and Kasumi's quarters. Garrus took a deep breath and picked up his pace. John shot him a confused look. "Wait," he asked, "are they _actually_ going to try to stop you?"

"Yea, most likely," his turian friend replied.

"Should...probably hurry then?"

"Yep."

The two of them rounded the next corner and broke into a run.


	15. Finding the Strength

****Author's Note****  
**Hey everyone! I took some time to re-outline the chapters**  
**of FitS, and have a roadmap that should lead to faster updates**  
**now. I was excited to see all the cool stuff on N7 day, and hope**  
**you all are as excited about Andromeda as I am. As much as I'll**  
**always love Shepard and the gang, I think it'll be wonderful to get**  
**out there into a brand new story with new characters to fall in**  
**love with all over again. Also, I did a full playthrough of ME3 to get**  
**some visuals under my belt for when we hit certain planets, so that's**  
**all fresh in my head now, and we should be good to go to make some**  
**progress. My planning file is looking at about 36-37 chapters minimum for**  
**FitS, and then this series is all wrapped up! It's terrifying and exciting**  
**all at once.**

**Also, as I look back on my most recent chapters, I'm seeing (from my**  
**point of view at least) a severe dip in the quality of writing I'm used to**  
**putting out there. It all feels really disjointed and rushed, and while it**  
**still gets us where we need to go in the chapter story, it seems like it's**  
**missing the polish that my chapters in other works have had. I've made**  
**note of this, and re-dedicated myself to making sure I always get you a**  
**chapter worthy of your time reading it. And if you feel the same way I do,**  
**then I apologize for the sloppy work that's been around here lately.  
**  
**As always thanks for the PM's/Reviews/Reads, I appreciate**  
**you all spending your time here with me, and hope I can deliver the story**  
**you all deserve so very much!**

* * *

****Chapter 13: Finding the Strength** **

The consoles behind him continued to run complex streams of data from across the galaxy: distress signals, military formation patterns, civilian relocation orders. Throughout the stars, the Reapers brutalized entire civilizations, and yet the most important decision of the moment stood right before him. On a large rack, with near a hundred different storage slots, sat the objects of his contemplation. Had he the ability to go back in time, to give his past self a glimpse at the man he would one day become, he was certain that this aspect of his life would be one for which the younger would scorn the elder. Still, he realized with the stone stoicism of having accepted the inevitability long ago, there wasn't much harm it could do him now. He reached out, closing his hand around the neck of a '47 Thessia Red and pulling it from the rack. He turned, moving to make his way back to the only chair in the room, and took in the rest of it.

It was spartan: a single twin-sized bed, the chair, a small restroom with a shower and sink, the wine rack, a rations supply box, and of course his multi-screen terminal. In the beginning, he wasn't exactly sure why he'd created the bug-out shelters. After all, if things had gotten bad enough that he'd needed to use one of them, Cerberus was likely dead in the water, completely destroyed, or under the leadership of someone, at least temporarily, more cunning than he was, and the odds of regaining control were slim. He reached a hand up, scratching at the stubble that had accumulated there over the past few days, and narrowed his eyes in frustration. Kashon. Of all the slimy pieces of shit to supplant him, he'd have paid a small fortune to ensure it hadn't been that one. Still, for all Kashon's presumed intelligence, Harper's old space station had been expertly rigged to blow by someone who knew the structure intimately, and that meant he had help. The list of people with those qualifications was short: one person short. And even though the betrayal coursed and burned through him like molten steel, it gave him some small comfort to know that Kashon wouldn't have been able to pull it off without Kai Leng's assistance.

He shook his head as he studied the bottle in his hand. Had he gotten too soft? Had Shepard done the unthinkable, and changed him in spite of the constant position of power he'd had over the man? He'd taken the Normandy back to the Alliance, but that had all been planned for and accepted as a potential loss. Even the regular Cerberus crewmen had been flagged as potential deserters after long-term exposure to Shepard; they had after all been hand-picked to integrate as seamlessly as possible with his leadership style. Miranda...that was another story. He would have been hard-pressed to find anything that would have pulled her away from the cause, but then again, did he even know what the cause was anymore? He had allowed aliens aboard the Normandy to assist Shepard without a second thought, he'd halted Project Ascension for seemingly no real reason, and he'd defended Shepard's autonomy whenever Miranda or Cerberus underlings had questioned it.

"Perhaps he was right to take it from me," he mumbled to himself as he crossed the room slowly. He still believed in the mission of Cerberus, in the salvation and betterment of humanity above all else. That was an ironclad belief that the First Contact War had instilled in him. But to what extreme? As a younger man, he'd been willing to sacrifice anything, do anything, so see humanity's ascension. When he looked back on the things he'd authorized, the things he'd allowed to happen in his name, in Cerberus's name...could he truly be proud of them? He took a deep breath and sighed. The whole situation seemed completely lost to him, and for the first time in decades he wondered with genuine uncertainty just what his place, his role, was in the galaxy anymore.

He started moving towards the chair when it came, all at once, like a club over the back of his head. He tumbled forward, agony erupting in flares inside his mind. He saw them, their golden eyes burning in the blackness of space, felt the overwhelming force of their exerted will, the weight of a planet crushing his mind. He cried out in pain, his muscles twitching as the synapses in his brain went haywire. He could feel their claws within his mind, grasping desperately to claim him as their own. He pushed back with every ounce of his self-control, shoving them away millimeters at a time from the core of what made him human. Slowly, over what felt an eternity, they receded, until he thrust them off and closed the mental door once more. He sat on hands and knees, and awareness came back to him in waves of realization. He knelt in a pool of wine, the broken bottle just off to his right. He raised his hands to look at them, and saw the shards of glass that had embedded themselves in the meat of his palms. Sweat poured off of him, soaked through his shirt, and he stood with a shaky, jerking motion. He stilted over to the sink, and began picking the pieces of glass out of his hands methodically, as his ragged breathing raced to catch up to him. The blood from his wounds mixed with the wine stains on his palms, and it all ran red into the sink beneath him.

He looked up to see his own face in the mirror, to look into the eyes he'd crafted for himself, the eyes he'd stolen from them. He had hoped that with enough time, with enough resources, he could have used them to bring humanity to the greatest height it had ever reached, the apex of his species. Now, they seemed to be a death sentence, damning him to this intermittent torment until he finally lacked the willpower to oppose them any longer. The final piece removed from his palms, he stared down into the sink below, watching the small shards and slivers be washed away by the current before turning the faucet off, drying his hands on the nearby towel, and turning back to the room. His eyes came to rest again on the shattered bottle and the pool of blood and wine now marring the floor, and he simply shook his head. Leaving it where it lay, he returned to his chair and all but fell into it, picking up the cigarette he'd left burning there and pulling a long drag on it. He blew the smoke out after a moment, watching it swirl upwards and dance in front of the many vidscreens, his only company here in the bunker, before dissolving into nothingness. Some wisps of smoke reached farther up, others dissipated almost immediately. He watched them be born, dance, and die over and over as he continued to smoke the cigarette, hardly paying attention to the ocean of information in front of him that had once been his most prized possession.

In the end, it was only a matter of how long you lasted.

* * *

" _Doctor T'Soni, give me some good news."_ Admiral Steven Hackett's voice filtered into the Normandy's comm center just before his body materialized in the blue QE display.

"I've got some for you, though I was surprised we could have this meeting face to face, with the...situation on Earth. And...I'm so sorry, if I haven't said that already."

" _Appreciated, Doctor. We're...they're...doing the best they can given the circumstance, but it's pretty grim."_

"I'm not sure I understand. Shepard had said you were commanding the 5th Fleet."

Hackett sighed, and his shoulders slumped just a bit. " _I was. Alliance leadership convened and decided they weren't willing to risk losing me in the space above Earth when I'm such a 'Critical War Asset.'"_ He made finger-quotes as he spoke, and she could feel the irritation soaking every word. _"I've been relocated to the Citadel to oversee the construction of the Crucible."_ He leaned off to the side for a moment to speak with an unseen soldier, then gave her his attention once more. " _I'm still commanding the Fifth Fleet, but remotely. It's a less than ideal situation."_

"This whole war is," she whispered, and he nodded in agreement. A short silence hung between them, and she spoke again. "And the Council? Are they on board with the Crucible project? _"_

" _It was a tough sell, but they seem interested,"_ he replied. " _Valern is sending salarian engineers while they've still got a way off of Sur'Kesh. Thessia and Palaven aren't in a prime position to help with the labor, but they've called in government-level favors with materials suppliers and any shipping freighters crazy enough to risk the journey from wherever they're holed up. In short, we've got the materials locked down, but I need more hands to build the damned thing, Liara. The superstructure is almost finished, but after that we're in the dark. We need the final pieces of the plan if we're ever going to get the Crucible online in time to stop the Reapers."_

"In that, at least, I can help, Admiral." She brought up her omni-tool, transmitting the remaining pieces of data the Archivist had sent them across their secure channel. "We've managed to retrieve the rest of the data from a Cerberus intelligence asset who seems less than enamored with their current operating procedures. I can't be clear about their motives, but the data matches what we recovered from the Mars archives piece for piece, and completes our schematics."

" _Well I'll be damned,"_ Hackett breathed. " _If you'd have told me this morning that someone inside Cerberus, of all places, would be helping us in this fight, I'd have been highly skeptical, Doctor."_

Liara allowed the smallest of smiles to cross her lips as she folded her arms in front of her. "I'd have been right there with you. This war certainly isn't lacking for surprises."

Hackett received the data, looking down at his terminal and nodding. " _Ok, this is what we need. I'll have the Alliance and salarian techs get started on the rest of it."_ He paused for another moment, cupping his chin in one hand. " _How's Shepard doing? It's been a comms blackout on his end for awhile now."_

She nodded. "Shepard got reports that the quarians and geth were at the brink of open warfare again. We arrived in time to stop the majority of the violence, and brokered a peace arrangement that should be sending quarian and geth engineers your way to help with the Crucible. On top of that, the Normandy has picked up a new passenger that changes the game plan quite significantly."

" _Well that's one hell of an update, Doctor. Give me the details; I feel like this is a story I need to hear."  
_

* * *

"It's funny, when I entered turian space I was hoping to actually make some allies here," John said as he ran beside Garrus through the winding halls of military headquarters.

"Oh? And what am I, then?" the turian replied.

"Right now, an enemy of the state, if I've understood everything so far, Garrus," John called back.

"Oh come on, Shepard. You can't tell me you wouldn't have been at least a little disappointed if you'd just swooped in and had them all eating out of the palm of your hand."

John chuckled as they rounded another corner. "Alright, maybe a little. But don't tell Tali that. If she thinks I'm out here actively looking for trouble I'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh no," Garrus said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm not getting involved in all th-!" his sentence cut off as a door to his left opened and a hand reached out to pull him in. John skidded to a halt and leaped to defend him, but ended up getting grabbed as well. The door closed behind them and the lights came on.

"Five minutes, and you two are already in deep shit." The words were laced with fear and concern as they slipped out from Kasumi's hooded face.

"How the hell did you-" Garrus began, but she cut him off again, throwing a previously-neatly stacked pile of clothing at his chest.

"Garrus, if you think I haven't had your omni-tool bugged since the minute we touched down on Palaven, you clearly don't know me as well as you think you do."

Garrus looked over to John as he began removing his military uniform. "Do you see the violation of trust happening here, Shepard?"

"Oh please," she retorted, throwing John his own stack of clothes, "Have you met yourself? You get in trouble far too often for me to not keep tabs." She gestured to the pair of them as they changed into civilian clothes. "Case in point."

Garrus looked over to John again. "Anything here, Shepard?"

John laughed in response. "Oh no. I'm not getting involved in all this."

"Smart man," Kasumi said, before pulling up her omni-tool. "Javik was getting too many wary looks, so he fell back to the Normandy. You're going to have a hard time parading him around anywhere, Shep." She tapped a few keys into the holographic interface and transmitted the nav-point data to their omni-tools as they finished dressing. "Either way, he sent me the triangulation of the world engine console here on Palaven. You should be getting it now."

Garrus pulled up his own omni-tool and studied the map, shaking his head as he began to recognize the location. "Well the good news is I doubt we'll need mining equipment to get to it, it's inside one of our biggest cultural museums. I went there a handful of times as a kid, I must have seen this thing before..." His eyes slid away from the omni-tool and into the empty space of the room as he tried in vain to recall the relics he'd once viewed as a child.

"And the bad news?" John said, pulling up his omni-tool as well to study the map.

Garrus shook off his recollections. "It's right in the middle of a district I sacrificed to the Reapers to keep the capitol safe. We'll have to carve a path through to it. Not to mention it's a couple miles out from here."

John nodded, then opened his comm channel. "Joker, you there?"

" _Reading you loud and clear, Commander_ ," his pilot's voice came back. " _What's the game plan?"_

"Get the Normandy back into the sky, I think we've run out our welcome in the turian capitol. I need the Kodiak to get us to a city on the outskirts, so have James ready to go."

" _Wow, already? That's got to be a new record for you or something."_ He paused for a moment, getting no rise out of Shepard, and continued. " _Right, well I can get the Kodiak to you, but James isn't actually the Normandy's shuttle pilot. Which is probably good since the one and only time I've seen him fly the thing, he tried to crash it into the surface of Mars._ "

"And to think, I missed that," Garrus mumbled. Kasumi reached over and slapped his shoulder.

"Alright," John called back. "Then get our shuttle pilot ready to go and have them pick us up from the Normandy's hanger. Last I checked it had a token guard outside, so once we're in we'll need to be out again fast."

" _Not a problem, Commander,"_ an unknown man's voice replied. " _Lieutenant Cortez here. You make it into that hanger, and I'll get you out of it."_

"Good to hear. Rendezvous at the hangar in ten minutes. Shepard out." He closed the device, and Kasumi activated her tactical cloak. "Let's move."

The trio moved out into the halls, walking carefully amidst throngs of regular servicemen and women, trying their best to seem ordinary. Were the circumstances any different, John might have laughed at how ridiculous they certainly must have looked, pretending to be normal. Eventually the crowds thinned out as they made their way towards the shuttle docks, and they approached a corner where Kasumi de-cloaked and motioned for them to pause.

"Just the one guard," she whispered.

"We can take him," Garrus replied, moving to round the corner. Kasumi stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Just wait," she said, and the three of them peeked around the corner. The guard stood at attention, but jumped slightly at a loud voice coming from further down the hall.

"What in the spirits' name is this sorry excuse for a military institution?!" Garrus's father's voice boomed as he approached the soldier from the opposite direction.

"Excuse me," the soldier began authoritatively, reaching a hand forward to stop him. "This area of the building is for military personal of rank-"

"Rank?!" the elder turian bellowed. "And how about these, are they enough to meet your small-minded concept of rank?" He practically shoved the medals and bars on his uniform into the younger turian's face, and the guard stepped back.

"Um..y-yes, sir. Apologies, sir. Wh-what can I do for you?"

"That's better," Garrus's father replied with a sharp nod. "Back in my day, recruits like you knew a superior officer from a hundred yards! Hell if you were in my unit you'd already be on your knees ready to spit-shine my boots while I wore them!"

"Sir, I-"

"You what, Lieutenant? What could you possibly have to say that's important enough to interrupt my merry jog down memory lane, hmm?" He spread his arms wide to the otherwise empty hallway. "I'm sure we'd all just _love_ to hear it."

"Sir, I sh-should...that is to say I need to-"

"'I', this. 'I', that. Are you planning on spitting out some actual words anytime soon, lieutenant? Or are we going to sit here the both of us until the giant metal monsters out there bring this building down on top of us, just _waiting_ for you to speak?!"

"M-My commanding officer. I should...you should...I should show you to him."

The elder turian leaned in close to the guard. "Now that's about the smartest thing you've said yet, lieutenant. Lead the way, I'm sure your commanding officer and I will just have a lovely chat about what fine young turians he's staffed his ranks with." The guard paused for a moment, glancing between the turian giving him the third degree and the door he was supposed to be guarding. "Today, _vorshik_!" his elder roared, and the guard sprung into action, walking quickly ahead down the corridor. Halfway down, Garrus's father turned back to meet his son's eyes, and nodded sharply. A moment later, the pair of turians disappeared beyond a far corner.

"That was..." John trailed off as they moved past their corner and jogged toward the hangar. Garrus simply began to laugh.

"After all these years, that old turian's still got it."

"Got what, exactly?" John asked.

"The ability to make any recruit shit himself with fear," he replied.

They approached the red interface module and Kasumi pulled out her omni-tool. She tapped in a few keystrokes, then jumped back in surprise when the panel glowed green and the door slid open. A human stood at the door's control panel on the inside of the room, fidgeting with his own omni-tool, and he looked up with a smile when he saw them, then saluted. "Lieutenant Cortez, Commander. Thought I'd get you a head start on that panel, since we're pressed for time."

"Oh I like him already," Garrus quipped as he moved in past the human. John returned the salute, then stepped through as well.

"Damn fine work, Cortez. If you've got the same initiative while flying, I think Joker might have some serious competition."

Cortez chuckled as they made their way across the hangar to where the Kodiak hung idle in the air. "I appreciate that, Commander. I think we should get out of here ASAP, I overheard some turian brass on the other side of that door, and he did _not_ sound happy." Garrus laughed again as the hatch slid open, and they all piled in. Cortez moved up to the shuttles controls, and in a few seconds they were flying above the capitol, making their way out to the coordinates on their omni-tools.

"Alright you two," Kasumi said, sliding a footlocker over to each of them with her boot. "Suit up, the easy part's over."

* * *

Wrex looked around with a small grin on his face, shaking his head in disbelief. A few months ago, this place had been nothing but a desolate cave, created likely from some eons-past explosion in yet another meaningless war between the ancient tribes of his people. It sat a few kilometers east of Urdnot Hold, and he had told the salarians they would be safe from prying eyes within its confines. Truth told, he hadn't known how they would even begin to work on an idea of curing the genophage, much less make actual headway towards it. He'd supplied them with power, of course, and other basic necessities, but he'd left them mostly alone, with a comm frequency that channeled directly to his personal omni-tool, and the promise of Urdnot aid if anything, krogan or otherwise, befell them. The distress call had never come. Within days, the little _pyjaks_ had dismantled and re-assembled the basic solar grid he'd had Jrath set up, and boosted its power draw by three hundred percent. They'd scavenged together a laboratory from whatever spare tech Jrath had been able to salvage for them, and as he looked around the cave now, he saw monitors on every surface, streaming feeds of data like so many rivers across the once-stone surface of the cavern walls. He had to give credit where it was due: the salarians were no strangers to making something out of nothing.

"Ah, clan chieftan!" Mordin called from across the cave as Wrex entered. "Come in, come in. Hard at work, many great steps forward in genophage antidote. Large-scale digital testing in place, awaiting sequencing results now..." he trailed off and looked at a far monitor, squinting a bit to see its data contents. After a moment, he heaved a sigh and looked back at Wrex. "Cannot remember last time I slept."

Wrex chuckled, a low rumble that echoed off the ceiling of the cavern. "You know, you can take a nap. No one's stopping you."

"Pah," Mordin retorted, waving him off. "Fully engrossed in genophage work, constant stream of ideas, solutions. Reminds me of time on Omega. Improvisation. Desperation." He smiled, a wide gesture that took the entire width of his face. "Wonderful feeling."

Wrex shrugged. "If you say so. How's it coming along?"

"Ah! Yes!" Mordin exclaimed, raising a hand and waving for Wrex to follow. He led the krogan to a nearby terminal. "Data retrieved from Weyrlock compound shows impressive groundwork towards genophage cure, made possible by Maelon's efforts. Morally: gray area. Valuable? Undeniably."

"He's the other salarian?"

Mordin nodded. "Yes. My student, some years ago. Troubled by STG dissemination of genophage. Change of heart. Guilty conscience. Led him to return here, work on method to reverse the damage."

Wrex shook his head. "And I turned him away."

Mordin's voice dropped low. "Yes. Though, admittedly, solitary venture to Tuchanka in search of krogan benefactor for incurable disease not most credible plan."

"Well when you put it that way...yea, I guess."

"Either way," Mordin continued. "Data retrieved now. Maelon retrieved as well...thanks to timely intervention by Shepard." He tapped the screen, swiping left and right to access certain files, when a helix structure popped up and exploded outward, showing the various pieces of the krogan genetic strain in focus. "Here. Genophage attacks lymphatic cells on cellular level, re-writes genetic code to nullify markers that trigger conception within krogan female. Failure rate is two percent, but even among successful conceptions, genophage mutations of genetic structure nearly ensure problematic pregnancy or stillbirth." He tapped the screen again, and the image changed, with new pieces flying in from beyond the edges of the screen and attaching themselves to holes in the original structure. "Genophage cure reconnects cellular terminals left vacant by original exposure to genophage material; triggers production of replacement markers with full copies of genetic code, allows them to be passed correctly once more."

"What's the success rate on your cure?" Wrex asked cautiously. Mordin took a deep breath, then turned to face him.

"As I said, awaiting complete digital trials. But so far...eighty-nine percent."

"Is that enough to keep my people from extinction?"

"Yes. Current trend estimations evaluate an effectiveness threshold of seventy-one percent is necessary to facilitate 'rebirth' of species." His fingers came up to make quotes, then he dropped his hands to his side. "If trials successful, flourishing of krogan people an almost certainty. Still...major issue remains."

"What's that?" Wrex asked.

"Dispersal," a quiet voice called from behind him. Wrex turned to look at Maelon as he stepped into the caverns lighted central chamber. "The genophage was originally distributed via rivers, lakes, natural gathering places for krogan. That's...no longer an option, for obvious reasons. We need a dispersal method that can get the cure across Tuchanka quickly and evenly. The cure has an extremely short lifespan; it needs to be ingested or absorbed within hours of its release, or it becomes inert." The younger salarian held a datapad and moved towards Wrex. He could still see a slight limp in the alien's leg, a memento of Clan Weyrlock's hospitality that he would likely keep until the end of his days. Wrex scowled at his past treatment of Maelon, and what it had led him to, but he shook it off and reached for the datapad Maelon offered.

"And with the plans Urdnot has to get out into the fight, manual application isn't an option?" he guessed.

"Correct, clan chief," Maelon replied. "Unless the krogan clans would settle for four to five months of quarantine on Tuchanka while we directly administer to each individual..."

Wrex snorted. "Which they won't. Hell, I'm barely keeping them sane now while they wait for the ships to finish construction." He shot a warm grin at the salarian, and received a half-smile in return. Little steps were still steps, he thought to himself. He set the datapad down after looking at the calculations on its surface which all but confirmed Maelon's timetable estimates, and began to pace the cavern floor. "So we need fast dispersion, over a wide area, with exposure time under a few hours. What about...some sort of...I don't know, bomb?"

"Potential dispersion method we analyzed," Mordin stepped back in, bringing up trajectory and construction diagrams on his terminal. "Too risky. High temperature interacts negatively with genophage particulates within cure sample, brings estimated effectiveness threshold to sixty-four percent."

Wrex nodded. "Ok, so the bomb's out." He continued his pacing, thinking aloud. "Still, it seems like aerial delivery is the way to go, easiest way to blanket an area with the cure. The clans are all gathered in Urdnot Hold, even if we could just cover that area, it would be a huge portion of Tuchanka's population that get doused with the cure." He paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling, but coming up short. He sighed in frustration. "We're so close. If we could ju-"

"Doused!" Maelon exclaimed, startling both Wrex, whose head whipped towards the young salarian, and Mordin, who seemed to actually take a step back in shock. Maelon rushed across the room, examining inventory logs on a different terminal. "We can create a payload of cloud seeding chemicals, in combination canisters to mix with the genophage cure. If we can launch it into the atmosphere near Urdnot Hold, we can propagate a rain storm that would deliver the cure right onto the skin of every krogan waiting there!"

Wrex laughed aloud. "So now the plan is to make it rain on Tuchanka. Now I've heard everything."

"No..." Mordin began slowly, picking up pace as he ran with Maelon's idea. "Not impossible, simply unorthodox. Tuchankan drought due mostly to atmospheric damage from krogan nuclear war. Still, with chemical payload large enough, could instigate cloudburst effect in a controlled area. Rainfall would contain genophage cure, but also be highly irradiated."

"Which," Maelon continued for him, "the krogan have become completely immune to by now. We would need to stay in a sheltered location, as would any non-krogans in the vicinity, but your systems are already adapted to that negative side effect." He gestured to Wrex as he spoke. "Your people would absorb the cure right into their skin, and the krogan immune system would shrug off any radiation-based issues."

"Now that sounds like a plan," Wrex boomed in reply. "But how do we deliver your payload?"

"For that," Maelon replied, "we're going to need STG clearance codes." He turned back to his console and sifted through data as he spoke. "The only facility capable of launching this type of payload at the effective calculated trajectory wo-"

"The Spire," Mordin finished quietly for him.

"Yes," Maelon confirmed, stepping away from his terminal where a wireframe image of a tall structure in a vast desert stood slowly rotating on the screen.

Wrex looked at the structure, the possible temple of his people's salvation, and nodded. "I know just the guy," he said quietly, and pulled up his omni-tool.

* * *

Maeris'Vael consciously stopped his foot from tapping for the fifth time in as many minutes, and tried to still himself as their transport ship slowly moved to dock with their destination. He turned to look out the viewport behind him, and was awed again to see the seemingly endless array of spacedocks, fighters and frigates, cargo ships and personnel transports, all against the purple backdrop of the Widow Nebula. Still, as impressive as they were, what truly held his attention was the massive superstructure of what could only be a space-station hanging in its infancy in the middle of the field of spacecraft. It loomed against the brightly-colored backdrop of space like a great beast whose skin and muscle had been worn away by the elements, leaving only its massive skeleton behind. He did not know what the Citadel's fleet was working on out here, nor what the Admira- the _Conclave_ , he mentally corrected himself, had signed them up for, but if it helped Shepard, it helped the quarian people.

And the geth people, he thought as his gaze left the viewport and settled on the geth platform seated motionless across the aisle from him. While Maeris'Vael and the other quarians had been strapped into their seats to help brace for the FTL travel they'd recently performed, the geth had simply sat, balancing with light-speed calculations every time the ship lurched or swayed. The only sign of life in it's body came from the flare of its optical sensor, which had been busying itself studying the purple and gold lines of color that now streaked diagonally across its chassis.

"It matches well," he blurted out without thinking, and the geth raised its sensor to consider him. The gesture sent a slight chill down his spine, as he imagined it would for awhile yet to come, but he suppressed the instinct. He was tired of the fighting, tired of the endless wandering, and the geth had done all they could to make peace with their creators. At some point, Maeris'Vael figured, the burden fell on him and the quarians, and he'd be damned if he let his people down when they needed him the most. He noted the awkward silence and clarified. "The...the colors. They match your platform's color well."

"Thank you," the geth replied, looking down once more and running a finger along the lines. "I am still unsure about them."

"How do you mean?" Maeris'Vael probed. The geth's optical lens lifted once more.

"The New Geth are just that, new. We coalesced from trillions of runtimes housed within server clusters across the Perseus Veil. We became united in purpose, and streamlined in structure. When I consider that each platform now houses a single geth, and that there are millions of platforms in existence..." the geth trailed off, turning its sensor to look around the cabin, at the other quarians and geth that occupied its seats, before meeting Maeris'Vael's gaze once more.

"You wonder what makes you more worthy of leadership than the others? What makes you special in a sea of millions?" the quarian ventured. A long pause hung between them, and the geth's sensor flared slightly.

"Yes," it replied. "The Creators would use the word 'honor' or 'privilege'. What makes me worthy of such things? Have I performed at a higher efficiency level in certain tasks, or was my appointment to this position simply by random chance? And if so...what if I fail in my directive?"

Maeris'Vael chuckled, and the geth's sensor flared again in confusion. "I know the geth are all new to the concepts of self-awareness and higher consciousness, but let me share a secret with you: We all wonder why we are who we are, and we all ask ourselves what we did to be placed in the positions that we find ourselves in. And fear of failure? _Keelah_ , that's about the most organic-minded fear you can have. So instead of focusing on why you're here, and whether or not you're worthy, just do the best you can with what you're given. It's all the rest of us can do, and you might be surprised how far it gets you."

A long pause hung in the air, and the geth platform looked back down to the stripes on its chest before meeting the quarian's gaze once more. "Thank you, Maeris'Vael. I will process and analyze your words." Maeris'Vael smiled, and the ship lurched to a halt. Everyone in the ship stood, and Maeris'Vael led the geth platform to the front of the ship. As the airlock began to pressurize, he looked across at the geth, and nodded to its waiting optical sensor. The machine mirrored his gesture, and the airlock opened, revealing an older human man flanked by two fully-armored soldiers.

"Hell, I'd heard the reports from the Normandy, but I still don't think I fully believed it until just now," the older human said quietly. He extended a hand to Maeris'Vael, who took it graciously. "Admiral Steven Hackett, Systems Alliance. I coordinate the Sol System's defenses, and the construction of the Crucible, from this dreadnought."

"Maeris'Vael vas Neema," the quarian replied. "I've been placed in charge of the quarian engineering corps; we've been sent to help you however we can; and we're eager to get to work."

The human chuckled. "That's good, 'cause we've got a lot of work that needs doing." His gaze moved across to the geth, and after a short pause the machine extended his hand.

"I am Decanus, speaker for the New Geth aboard these vessels. We have been directed to assist in all efforts that oppose the Old Machines, those which you call Reapers. We wish to integrate with the galactic community, and to prove that we oppose those who would harvest or enslave us all." The geth paused again, looking over to Maeris'Vael before continuing. "The New Geth have finally found a place in this galaxy, and we will do whatever is required of us to keep it."

Hackett looked into the machine's sensor for a long moment before reaching out and grasping its hand. "Then you and your people are welcome aboard, Decanus. With a fight like this, I won't turn away anyone looking to help."

Maeris'Vael looked down at the clasped hands of the human and the geth, knowing in some small recessed part of his mind that he was witness to a landmark moment in galactic history. No, he would not let down his people. And regardless of the origins of his role, he knew with absolutely certainty, neither would Decanus.

* * *

The Illusive Man walked slowly through the large center row that divided the Cerberus intel sector in half. Around him at dozens of terminals, analysts sat delving through information acquired from all across the galaxy, tirelessly searching for anything that could give their organization the edge in military maneuvers. Some shot a cautious glance at him as he passed, but most kept their heads down; whether out of fear of the stories they'd heard or simple immersion in their work he couldn't be sure, but neither did he care. He passed them and approached a large viewport at the back of the room. It overlooked a hangar bay below, with a small fleet in-station for maintenance and repairs. Men and women scurried across the deck below, anxious to get the ships back out into space to continue the fight for human supremacy. His mouth turned slightly downward as he recalled his own service; denied for field combat because of his physical ailment, he'd been resigned to intelligence work for the entirety of his career. Subconsciously, he reached down with a hand to rub his left leg. He'd been a young man when the accident happened, and stranded out in the middle of nowhere he'd done the best he could to set the bone and hobble back to a medical center. It hadn't been enough. His leg had healed improperly, and although he'd learned to walk normally, hiding the small limp in his gait, running was always agony. He'd been enraged when he'd been denied the opportunity to fight in the Alliance, but had compressed his anger into steel, and redoubled his efforts in intelligence. It was finally time to reap the benefits of that work.

"Sir?" The voice came from his left, and he snapped back to the present, turning to look at the young officer who had come to deliver his report. The man looked confused, as if he'd already attempted to get Kashon's attention and only his most recent attempt had made any progress.

"What is it?" he replied with no small amount of coldness.

"Our observation outpost near Tuchanka is reporting a strange increase in gathered data traffic."

"The krogan are contacting other species?"

"No, sir. At least, we don't believe that's the case. These streams are reaching out on black-level channels, accessing Special Task Group databases for data retrieval. We can't tell what they're pulling back, or why the krogan are interested, bu-"

Kashon cut him off. "Search our active list of STG-registered shuttles. You'll have to-" He glared when the man didn't immediately spring into action, and snatched the datapad out of his hands. "What am I talking about? You probably don't even have the clearance for it." He entered his own passcode and data populated the small screen immediately. He saw the data transmission information, and the man hadn't lied; it was an immense amount of transference. He reached into data stolen from STG files and checked their fleet roster. No ship was ever outwardly registered to the Special Task Group, but the organization had internal registries, and when it came to secure databases, no one was safe from Cerberus intelligence; especially not since their change in leadership. He saw only one ship unaccounted for, and his blood ran cold. A vessel with a flight plan through the Aralakh system had registered a stop at an old STG outpost, listing _Equipment Upkeep_ as its purpose. He locked the datapad again, half-throwing it at the young man's chest and turning to walk rapidly away, back toward his office. He reached down to pull up his omni-tool, contacting Kai Leng as he stormed through the halls.

The pain in his leg surged through the rest of his body, but he wasn't in the mindset to feel it.

* * *

"I'm not usually a picky guy, but sometime in the next week would be great, Garrus!" John called out over their comm link, above the din of gunfire and the sickly roars of the Reaper forces they fended off from behind their cover of fallen stone pillars.

" _Funny you should mention that, because it's almost finished!"_ the turian called back.

"Right," Kasumi replied, her sub-machine run rattling off round after round from her cover spot just to John's left. "Are we talking 'actually almost finished' or 'I'm almost finished calibrating the Thanix Cannon' levels of delay?"

" _Oh that's a good one. You know, it'd probably be done already if you two didn't have me just_ rolling _on the floor laughing back here."_

John smirked as he fired over the barrier, and when he looked at Kasumi out of the corner of his eye, he could see her small frame shaking slightly with laughter. The converted batarian soldiers continued to surge forward, seemingly never-ending in supply, and after what seemed like an eternity of gunfire, Garrus called back over their comm channel.

" _Alright, it's ready to go. If you two are done playing with your new friends?"_

John signaled for Kasumi to go first, and she moved quickly, rushing backwards and up the large stone stairs behind them while he stepped out to provide covering fire. He laid a full magazine into the approaching horde before taking a grenade from his belt and hurling it into the crowd. It exploded right in their midst, sending a few bodies flying and giving John the time he needed to turn and run. At the top of the stairs he met Kasumi and Garrus, standing by the large double-door entrance to a museum. The Reaper forces had seen their retreat, and stormed up the stairs to give chase. "Go, now!" John yelled, and the two of them ducked into the doorway, with John following after. Garrus had his omni-tool up and ready, and when John was a safe distance in, he triggered the demolition charges. The explosion weakened the already-strained foundations of the main entrance, and brought the doorway crumbling down, with a pile of impassable rubble where it had once been. John nodded at Garrus's handiwork and clapped him on the shoulder. "Should do just fine. And Kasumi, you're _sure_ there's an alternate path out of here when we're done?"

"Shep, please," she shot back, brushing some of the stone dust off of her bodysuit. "My entire reputation is built on getting in and out of places where priceless valuables are kept. I'm sure."

"Yea, she's good, Shepard," Garrus added. "In fact, not a week after she moved in here on Palaven, I started to notice that mysteriously all of my armor-cleaning rags were s-"

"So disgusting I threw them out and got him new ones," she finished, likely not in the manner he'd intended. "Seriously, it took me five minutes. Your life is a shambles."

John shook his head and chuckled as he ignited the flare on his omni-tool and held it up. The main chamber of the museum was enormous, and it reminded him of Donovan Hock's estate on Bekenstein. Antique turian fighter ships hung suspended from cables reaching far and away into the black abyss above them that not even his omni-tool's light could pierce, and around them sat pedestals of all shapes and sizes housing items of seemingly great import from turian antiquity. The scale impressed him, and he stood for a long moment before he shook it off and turned to Garrus. "Ok, so what's the plan?"

"Right," the turian replied, "If we get to the back of the museum, there's a section locked off for military members of General rank or higher. As it so happens, the promotion that came along with becoming the 'Reaper Expert' for the turian military gives me that clearance."

"Won't they have taken it away by now?"

Garrus shook his head. "I doubt it. If they really wanted to stop us, their best chance was before we left headquarters. Now that we're out in the shit, I don't expect they think we'll come back. And they've got more pressing matters to deal with at the moment." John nodded in agreement as they moved through the corridors. The darkness gave the place an uneasy feeling, as if they were trespassing in a place that eagerly wanted them gone. As they moved, John's light revealed paintings, sculpture, armor sets, and other masterworks housed in this now-deathly quiet mausoleum of turian culture. Shivers continued to find their way down his spine, and it was no small relief to him when they finally came to a large reinforced door in the back of the building. "Alright," Garrus called over his shoulder as he approached the door, "moment of truth."

He placed his hand on the sensor by the door, and it flickered a few times before coming online. It scanned his hand and then glowed green, accompanied by the sound of a series of locks behind the door being released. After a moment, the door slid to the side, allowing them to enter. It was a small chamber, with only six pedestals, three on each side, and an ancient looking console in the back of the room. John looked right and left as they walked through the room, seeing documents, a small piece of a spacecraft's hull, a weathered skull, and eventually set his eyes on a saber under the last glass case on the left-hand side.

"What's this?" John asked, his light shining down onto, and glimmering off of, the blade. Garrus turned and walked over to him, reading the small card underneath before speaking.

"The Blade of Parnesh," he said quietly, and then whistled in approval. "Supposedly it was carried by the first turian Primarch; back when being Primarch was the equivalent of a krogan warlord." He clapped Shepard on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Shepard, you may have just found the one thing in the galaxy that's seen more warfare than you have."

John shot him a wry look, then stepped away to move toward the console. Kasumi was looking it over, but she looked up as he approached and shrugged her shoulders. "I've seen a lot of terminal interfaces, but I can't make out a word of it."

"I have a feeling I might be able to," John said, meeting her gaze. "Can you see what we can do about these six artifacts in here? I have a feeling retrieving them from Reaper-controlled territory might get us some goodwill once we have to deal with the Hierarchy again."

She smiled. "Shep, are you asking me to steal these?"

He chuckled. "Yea, but just for a couple hours tops, then we give them back."

She shook her head, but the smile remained on her face. "You sure know how to ruin a girl's fun, I'll give you that." Then she turned, and began examining the items in the cases. John looked down at the terminal, and as expected, could read it plain as day. He followed the sequence outlined to boot it up, and the entire surface of the terminal glowed green, projecting the image of a prothean in the space above it.

" _Command console online, would you like to begin world engine activation sequence?_ "

"Yes," John replied. "Reaper forces are blockading the planet; some are already on the ground. We need to initiate the engine."

" _Understood. Imperial safety regulations require me to remind you that the world engine's power source is the core of the planet into which it is installed. Extended periods of world engine activation can and will destabilize the planetary core to a point that may render it inhospitable._ "

"What?" John yelled.

" _Imperial safety regul-"_

"I heard what you said," John clarified, "but I wasn't told about this."

"What? What's the matter, Shepard?" Garrus asked just to his left. "All we're seeing is static in the air." John turned to him.

"If we run the world engine too long it will destabilize the planet's core. Garrus...we could ruin Palaven with this." Garrus looked away for a long moment. Outside, through the walls of the museum, muffled gunshots and explosions could still be heard, as well as the occasional far-off drone of a Reaper firing its main cannon. Garrus closed his eyes, then turned back to John.

"They've already ruined Palaven," he said quietly. "Do what you have to, Shepard."

"But the consequences-"

"Are mine," Garrus interrupted. "You and Kasumi aren't turians. So technically I'm in charge here. This is my decision, and if it ends up making me the most hated member of my species in our entire recorded history...well at least there'll still be people left to talk about that history." He let the moment linger, staring into John's eyes with a shaking certainty. Finally, he simply nodded once. "Do it, Shepard."

John turned back to the prothean VI awaiting his orders. "Activate the world engine."

" _You have chosen to activate the world engine and begin draining the planet's core. Confirm command."_

"Confirmed. Activate it."

" _Acknowledged. Initiating world engine protocol now."_

Somewhere far beneath them, in the bowels of Palaven's core, a low rumble began. It rushed outwards, and the rock around it vibrated with each wave and pulse it emitted. The wave screamed towards the surface of the planet, and John looked down as the ground began to vibrate first softly, then harder and harder as it heralded the arrival of the first pulse. The rumble became louder still until the entire room was filled with an unbearable cacophony of moving wind. The chamber began to shake, and eventually they all lost their footing, tumbling to the floor. John reached down to catch himself on one of the display pedestals, and the entire world went white.


	16. Adaptation

****Author's Note****   
**Hey everyone! Here's another chapter for you to enjoy! I'm going**   
**to be working from home over the holiday, so I'm likely to get some**   
**more writing done in the down time. I'll be continuing to put out more**   
**stuff as the next couple weeks progress, but in case you don't check back**   
**in with me before then, I want to wish everyone a happy holiday season,**   
**and if the holidays are a particularly sad time for you for whatever reason,**   
**know that me and my books will be here to help you get through.**

**I'm grateful to know each and every one of you, even if it's just through PM**   
**conversations or reviews left on my chapters. Hell, even if you've never**   
**commented on my work, just come to read, that means everything to me.**

**So grab a cup of something warm, and enjoy this latest chapter. I hope everyone**   
**has an enjoyable and safe holiday season! I'm still working hard at making Kai**   
**Leng an understandable villain, and I'm planning something much different**   
**for everyone's least-favorite politician this time around. Stay tuned!**

* * *

****Chapter 14: Adaptation** **

" _And you're positive that's what they're planning?"_

The man's doubt sparked anger in Kashon, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Between the two of them, who had planned to strike first? Who had made the arrangements to unseat Harper and take control of their organization? Who held the title of Illusive Man now? He shook his head slightly, clearing the anger out before replying. His predecessor had acted with too much emotion, become too personally invested in operations. Kashon would not make the same mistake.

"Of course I'm positive," he said, pulling up his omni-tool and looking over the data readouts once more. "The STG ships list their designated stop on Tuchanka as routine maintenance. Outside of a few listening posts or monitoring satellites, there's nothing there to maintain, save for whatever equipment they used to disperse the genophage."

" _They could simply be ensuring the krogan are still neutered."_

"They could, but they aren't," he retorted, flicking through more data to get to what he needed. "Look at our intel reports on the krogan. They're amassing near Urdnot Hold, coalescing into a single tribe, and I'm sure you've read about Urdnot Wrex from Shepard's reports during the hunt for Saren Arterius." He paused for effect, got no reaction, and rolled his eyes. "The krogan are uniting, the dalatrass is so concerned about preparations to fight the reapers that she doesn't even notice her own ships going missing, and they form a convoy to Tuchanka? Since when are multiple ships required for routine maintenance?"

" _You believe they're attempting to reverse the genophage; to elevate the krogan as they did before with the Rachni."_

"That's my belief, yes," he replied, irritation creeping into his voice. "Though I don't have enough proof to confirm it. Regardless, whatever they're doing there is bad for Cerberus. Sterilized or not, a united krogan is a threat to the galactic order. Take your team, get to Tuchanka, and figure out what's going on. Stop it if you can, but regardless of what the salarians and the krogan are up to, remove Urdnot Wrex from the picture."

" _Dead or captured?"_

Kashon scoffed. "What use do I have for that abomination of nature? He won't give up anything willingly and I lack the time required to get anything of consequence out of him. Kill him, and we end this nascent krogan unity along with him. Failure is not an option here, Leng."

" _Shepard is likely to be with him. There doesn't seem to be a galaxy-shaking event he isn't involved in these days."_

Kashon rubbed his chin with a hand. He let dead air fill the call for a moment as he paced back and forth, thinking about all the research he'd done on the man whom he was sure would be his greatest adversary in this war. He wanted Shepard dead, that was to be sure, but did he really want to risk Kai Leng's life to take a shot at it? He shook his head, he would need his agent in the weeks to come, and losing Leng would have devastating consequences on his ability to exert power across the galaxy. "If he's on Tuchanka," he replied at last, "he's guaranteed to be where the fighting is most brutal. That will be on-site, wherever this machinery the salarians are trying to use is located. I doubt Urdnot Wrex will stray too far from his main compound; without his leadership the clans fall apart, and he hasn't been ruling them long enough for the status quo to set in. If you encounter Shepard, do not engage him. Your primary target is Urdnot Wrex; if you're able to hinder the salarians' plans after dealing with him, then do so."

" _Understood."_ The comm channel closed out, and Kashon rubbed the bridge of his nose. The migraine had returned, and it threatened to ruin all productivity for the rest of the day. He crossed the room, taking a seat in the standard-issue chair behind his desk, and looked around. He prided himself on the lack of accouterments, the function-over-form nature of his office. The pounding in his head grew worse, and subconsciously he raised a hand to the back of his head, to the long scar beneath his auburn hair. It had faded with time, and it had been a long time now, but he still knew exactly where it was, could still feel the slight raise in his skin from where the stitches had kneaded his scalp back together. It was a constant reminder of his mortality, of how even the Illusive Man could be killed if he failed to play the game correctly. Slowly, the migraine faded, and he returned to work. There was lost time to make up, he thought as he opened the project files on Overlord.

So very much time.

* * *

John rubbed his head as he knelt on the floor, the only light around them coming from the flare on Garrus's omni-tool, held up as high as he could in the otherwise still chamber. He felt wetness on the back of his head, and pulled away his hand to inspect it. He realized after a moment that his head was fine, and the wound in his palm had reopened, tricking blood into his gauntlet. He rolled his eyes, already imagining the tongue-lashing he'd get from Chakwas about it, and began to examine their surroundings. Some two or three feet above them, a kinetic barrier bubble rippled gently, the light casting a shimmering reflection upon its surface wherever it landed. Small tendrils of energy current coursed from certain points on the barrier's surface, trailing through the air to connect back to a circular generator on the back of Kasumi's left hand. Around them in a perfect circular pattern lay the rubble of the chamber they had stood in before the shock-wave hit, pieces of rock of every shape and size strewn across the once-carpeted floor.

"Are you alright?" Kasumi asked him as she got to her feet.

"Yea," John said with an absent mind. He looked around at all the boulders well large enough to have been his end had she not had the foresight of bringing the kinetic barrier. That little slip-up, and it could have all been over. He shook his head at the absurdity of the odds of him making it out of this whole damned war alive, and turned to face her as he stood. "Nice thinking."

"Yea," she replied. She deactivated the device, the light purple barrer shimmering for a moment before collapsing into the back of her hand as if pulled in with a vacuum force. "When Javik gave me the quick and dirty version of how the engines worked, I figured we might be having some problems with...debris."

"That's putting it lightly," Garrus muttered. He still faced away from them, scanning the edges of the room with his omni-tool flare to catch any glimpse of the alternate exit to the chamber. John looked back to the doorway they'd entered through, and saw a mountain of rock now barricading it. He closed his eyes in frustration. With his enhanced skeleton, he'd likely be able to clear the doorway if necessary, but how many more roadblocks would come after that? They were wasting time they couldn't afford to spend. Garrus grumbled something inaudible and pulled up his omni-tool, checking for any small-band frequencies in the area. After a moment, he nodded. "Ok, should be behind a panel in that corner over there." He pointed to a rubble pile just up and to the right of where the prothean console had stood, and they moved towards it together. Garrus ignited his flare again, and they could see the clear outline of a passageway within the stone wall of the chamber. "Think I could just use my clearance again?"

"Doubt it," Kasumi replied as she pulled up her own omni-tool and began running programs John had never seen in his life. "This passageway is meant to evacuate the primarch or any tier-two generals in the event of...well," she looked up while her omni-tool calculated and put her hands out to indicate the entire situation. "It'll need a little more finesse than your palm print, sorry to say."

"Why do I get the feeling she's not sorry to say that?" the turian mumbled in John's ear.

John grinned. "What ranking are you, anyway?"

"I, ah...can't disclose that, Shepard. You know, military secrecy and all." Garrus stood for a moment, facing John, and shifted uncomfortably.

John raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Yea, sorry. It's just ah...really important to maintain at least some air of-"

"Four," called Kasumi over her shoulder. "He's a tier-four general; specialists and experts with knowledge that could greatly impact troop deployment or overall strategy." Garrus bristled, earning a laugh from her, and her omni-tool chimed, followed shortly by the door sliding away into the side wall. John clapped Garrus on the shoulder.

"Right this way, general."

Garrus shoved his hand away. "Oh shut the hell up."

They walked through the darkened hallway, lit only by floor-depressed white emergency lights, for a few minutes. Aside from the sounds of their footfalls and the occasional clinking or clanging from the knapsack Kasumi had hastily fashioned to carry the turian relics, the hall was deathly silent. John closed his eyes as he walked, taking just a moment to enjoy the peace and...his eyes snapped back open. "Quiet," he mumbled aloud.

"What?" Garrus asked him. He and Kasumi stopped, turning to look back at him.

"It's quiet," he replied simply. It took them a moment to realize the significance of what he'd said, and they quickened their pace to reach the end of the tunnel. They arrived a few minutes later, greeted only by a simple door with an access panel. Garrus reached out to touch it, but the door snapped open before he could touch it. The barrels of four rifles pointed in on them, and they froze in place.

"I'd have expected this out of Garrus, but you Commander? I figured you'd talk some sense into him." The voice came from a turian behind the row of four riflemen, who walked through their ranks waving them to stand down. John recognized him as one of the generals in the meeting Garrus had stormed out of, and he watched the turian cautiously.

"Normally you'd be right, general. But the stakes are too high this time; we couldn't stand down in the face of the Reaper threat."

The general nodded to himself as if he'd known the words would come. "Well whatever you did in there, it worked wonders out here." The general stepped aside and motioned for them to come out of the tunnel. They did so, the exit leading onto a large plateau overlooking the nearby sea. He saw it immediately, stretching from the horizon line to the zenith of the visible sky: a green shimmering cover, shielding the whole of Palaven as far as he could see. At various intervals the impact and shimmer of an explosion could be seen, but quickly faded, and the general continued as they stared up in awe. "We're getting reports from all sectors: Reaper forces are pulling back, scattered and disorganized. It's like that shield is blocking control from their masters. We've gone on the offensive, clearing them out and retaking ground planet-wide."

"What about ground-side Reapers?" John asked, his gaze returning to the general. The turian shook his head.

"Dead, seemingly. I only had reports of three of the bastards coming planet-side, though. This wasn't like what I'm hearing about Earth, Shepard. The Reapers here are blockading us, starving us out, keeping us out of the fight. They know we're the biggest military presence in the galaxy and they're keeping us sidelined. Still, the three that decided to come to ground went down when that pulse fired off. My men say there was a lot of red lightning and then they just...fell over." The general shook his head, turning to look up again himself at the shimmering barrier. "Billions in property damage, and I can't imagine how many people they may have crushed in the falling over, but they're dead by all accounts."

"Three down, couple thousand to go," Garrus mumbled.

"Yea," the general replied quietly, "we've got our work cut out for us this time." He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then turned back to the three of them. "Anyway, I'm to bring you back to high command; I imagine they'll have a lot of questions they think you can answer." He gestured towards his shuttle, then gave Kasumi a sidelong glance. "Souvenirs?" he asked dryly.

"Absolutely," she replied, "but not for me." She held the makeshift bag out to him, and when he opened it his eyes went wide.

"By the spirits...Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to have those safe and sound as well."

"That's what we were counting on," John added.

The general led them to his shuttle, and its thrusters flared to life, lifting them up and over the ruined city square they'd just escaped. Smoke and fires filled his vision as he looked out over the surface of the city, along with hundreds of Reaper force corpses. In the distance, he could see a small unit of turian soldiers pushing back a Reaper line, the deranged and mutated creatures panicking and running wild without the overbearing orders of the Reapers driving them onward. As they cleared the last of them, John heard the earth rumble, and the ground beneath the unit seemed to heave and shake, throwing them all off their feet. A moment later, it died down, and they stood back up, looking around in confusion before continuing on in their mission. John closed his eyes to try and center himself, remembering what the prothean console had told him, remembering the cost of that protective barrier. He was working on borrowed time.

* * *

"We've had reports of multiple seismic events in scattered regions around the planet, Primarch," the turians' Engineer General said, as the wireframe image of Palaven hung in the open space above the conference room table. John looked around, seeing the room decidedly emptier than it had been the last time he'd stood in here. He glanced over to Garrus, who stood opposite the Engineer General across the table, and Kasumi, who maintained a relatively relaxed posture in a nearby corner. They both seemed calm, although the other two inhabitants of the room seemed much less so.

Primarch Adrian Victus studied the map of Palaven with a careful eye, the tattoos on his cheeks shifting now and then when he winced at a large red ring on the planet's surface indicating seismic activity. Beside him, the Engineer General stood quietly, allowing the new Primarch to examine the situation. After a long moment, Victus shook his head, and a long sigh accompanied the movement.

"And you know about this, Commander?" the turian asked directly.

"Yes, Primarch," John responded, taking a step forward. The news of Fedorian's death holding the turian moon of Menae had been relayed to them as they'd soared back to headquarters on the transport ship, and he was sure Victus was feeling the pressure mount to fill the turian's shoes on short notice. If he could be any help, he would. "The world engines project a barrier containing what we can only assume is some kind of anti-Reaper signal. As you can imagine," he said, gesturing to the Engineer General, "a barrier like that requires an immense amount of power to sustain itself. The device utilizes the planet's core as a fuel source. It buys us time, but at a great cost."

Victus shook his head again. "This was the protheans' great plan? Watch the Reapers hover outside our barrier and wait us out while we sacrifice the very rock we stand on waiting on...what? Reinforcements? A miracle? The damned spirits themselves to come wash us clean of the fucking monsters?"

"To wait for us." Javik replied softly from the doorway to the conference room. Victus leaned back from his palms-down hunching over the table to stand at full height and regard the newcomer. To his credit, his eyes didn't widen, his mouth didn't immediately fall agape; he simply looked the other creature in the eyes and waited for more information. Behind Javik, the turians who had escorted him were not so composed. Their mandibles worked furiously in awe as the door between them and Javik slid shut once more. "We had planned to stand beside you in this conflict, Primarch. The world engines were installed on all planets housing the most promising pre-flight species of our time. Well..." he trailed off, glancing over to John, "almost all of them." The prothean nodded to him in consolation once more, a gesture that John returned with one of thanks. "Long before this cycle," he started again, walking to circle the table as he gazed into the wireframe image of the planet on which they stood, "we would have awoken from our stasis chambers, repopulated the galaxy, rebuilt our empire, and groomed all of you into a fighting force the likes of which had likely never been seen in this galaxy before. We had the knowledge of fighting the Reapers, the first-hand experience with which to create new and varied tactics to use against them, the ability to detect and neutralize indoctrinated members of your societies before they could undermine our resistance..." he trailed off again, lost both in the wireframe model, and in his own memories.

"So what the hell happened?" Victus asked bluntly. Javik turned to regard the turian with his full attention.

"Our plans fell through," the prothean replied with equal temperament. He paused for a moment, then spoke again. "Despite what your records or personal histories might claim, we were not a godlike race of galactic saviors. We were a people who fought, and bled, and died just like any other. The world engines can no longer fulfill their original purpose, but they can still forestall the Reaper advance, perhaps buy you time to find allies and stabilize this world."

"Allies?" Victus replied with a scoff. "From what the Commander here tells me, the asari and salarians are keeping their cards close to their chest, shoring up Thessia and Sur'kesh against attacks that're barely a tenth the scale of what we're facing here. And while I deeply respect what you've been able to do with the quarian-geth situation, Shepard, I highly doubt they're in any state to fight off a Reaper fleet this large."

John shook his head. "They're working on retrofitting their whole fleet for combat now that they've got a homeworld for their non-combatants, but it won't be ready in the time frame we're working with." Victus nodded sharply in acceptance of his assessment, then heaved a heavy sigh.

"Look, I'm not trying to put this on you, prothean," he began in a calmer tone. "Spirits, your world engine is stopping Palaven from being nothing but charred rubble by now, and I'm grateful for that. But we're waiting for backup that isn't coming. For all intents and purposes, we're alone out here." A long moment of silence hung in the dark room as the rendering of Palaven rotated slowly between them, flares of red in varying sizes popping up and disappearing as the world engine consumed the planet in order to save it. After a moment, Garrus chuckled aloud, and Victus's mandibles twitched in confusion. "What?"

"Well I mean it's pretty obvious when you think about it," Garrus replied quietly. "Hell, you just went down the list and ruled out everyone else."

"The krogan...?" the Engineer General breathed.

"Shepard and I have ties to Urdnot Wrex," Garrus pressed, "and last I heard he's been making some plays on Tuchanka. If we can get a krogan fleet to Palaven, combined with the forces in reserve we have coming from throughout the rest of the galaxy...that could be just enough, Primarch. We could do more than hold out against the Reapers. We could push them back."

The Engineer General laughed. "You're talking about the most isolated species in the galactic community outside of maybe the quarian fleets. You can't honestly think they'd be willing to help us."

"Well no one else is either," Victus said quietly. The engineer turned to him, surprise blanketed across his features. Victus seemed lost in thought for a moment, then punched the tabletop with a balled fist and stood again to point at Garrus. "When they write about this moment in the history of our people, and my tale goes to rest in the Temple of Remembrance, they'll flay me for this." He let the silence linger, then continued. "So make sure it works, Vakarian. My best estimates from the General here tell me we have about three weeks before Palaven starts to crumble, which means I need the krogan here yesterday."

Garrus's eyes went wide. "I...I mean I'm happy to help recruit them, but I'm...no diplomat."

"You're the closest thing I've got right now, Garrus," Victus replied with an edge. His closed his eyes, calming himself before replying again. "Look, kid. I've got billions of turians out there waiting for my orders on their next moves. I've got reports flooding in from all our colonies, and none of them are being spared the sight of these fucking things. And I just put the Primarch's bars on my coat two days ago. It's not the ideal situation, nothing in any war ever is, much less this one. But I need you to get Palaven the help she needs. So as of this moment you're acting Imperator for the Turian Hierarchy." John glanced over to his friend to see his eyes wide and his mandibles working furiously to come up with a response. After a long moment of trying, they settled on one.

"Th-thank you, Primarch. I'll...you won't regret this."

Victus laughed aloud. "Hell, Vakarian. If I regret it, at least I won't live to beat myself up over it." He tapped the controls on the table, and the wireframe of Palaven dropped away as the room lighting came back up. "Commander, I assume your ship is equipped to carry a turian dignitary?"

"It is, Primarch," John replied with a nod, which Victus reciprocated.

"Good. Garrus, go with Shepard, take him with you when you meet the krogan if you think it'll better your chances. You have full diplomatic authorization, do whatever it takes to get their scaly asses onto ships and out here to help. Whatever you give them, we can deal with when the Reapers are handled, but try not to give them the swords off our mantles, ok?"

A short, nervous laugh burst forward from Garrus, and it seemed to surprise even him. "Right...will do."

"Spirits be with you, gentlemen," Victus replied as he moved to leave the room, his Engineer General in tow. "I've got a war to fight."

John, Garrus, and Kasumi filed out of the room after him, and they broke off down a different hallway as they wound their way back towards where the Normandy was once-more docked. Silence hung around them like a shroud, and after a few minutes of walking John cleared his throat. "So...Imperator?" Garrus turned to him, shook his head, and picked up his pace, moving ahead of the two of them and around a corner out of sight. John stopped in his tracks, and Kasumi put a hand on his shoulder.

"Imperators are the mouthpiece of the turian hierarchy in a specific area of turian space. Like...a prime minister or chief diplomat for a country. But with a communications blackout from the other areas in war-time, the Palaven sphere assumes control over all of turian space. When Garrus sets foot on Tuchanka, he basically _is_ Palaven, in all matters of state." John whistled softly.

"No wonder he's nervous." Kasumi laughed, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not what he's nervous about," she explained. "Any turian would be honored to take on that role for their people, and I'm sure deep down past the fear, so is Garrus."

"So what's got him all shaken up?"

Kasumi started walking again, and John moved to stay with her. "Victus knows talent when he sees it, I'll give him that."

"Still...not sure I follow," John replied.

"Being officially named Imperator of Palaven in war-time means Garrus speaks for the turian people, but it also means he's now right behind Victus in the line of succession." She turned to him, a slightly concerned smile on her lips. "If Victus's luck runs out...Garrus would be named Primarch of Palaven."

"And by default...all of turian space..." John trailed off, finally understanding his friend's fear.

"Yep," Kasumi replied quietly. They walked in silence for a long moment, and John spoke again.

"So...let's get the krogan?" he asked warily.

"Yea...let's get the krogan," she replied.

* * *

The loud rhythm pulsed through the club, a simple progression repeating over and over _ad nauseum_ , but Jack didn't care; she wasn't paying attention to it anyway. She continued to flick through the datapad in front of her, swimming in a heady mix of the long-buried Cerberus secrets and straight whisky that had been the past few hours of her life. She wasn't sure what to make of the data, or what she'd had planned for it. Pragia was gone, the Teltin facility destroyed, and all the loose ends wrapped up. For the first time since escaping so long ago, it was all neatly tied off. Shepard had given her that closure, but now she was unsure how to proceed. It had been a whirlwind life, full of murder and betrayal, pain and retribution, but it had all ended now, and she was just shy of twenty-five. At least that's what the file said; she'd stopped counting her birthdays at sixteen. After being locked in a cell, experimented on daily, it hadn't seemed to matter anymore, and the days of her youth had all bled together so much that she wasn't even sure she'd been correct the last time she'd celebrated it alone. She shook her head, pushing the empty glass back across the bar for a refill. The bartender reached for it, slowly filling it once more.

"I'll have one as well," the voice called out over the music to him, and the salarian barman nodded in response, reaching below to grab another glass. Jack turned her head to see Miranda slide into the seat next to her.

"Oh good, I was just starting to get bored," Jack snipped, pulling down her drink in one large take and slamming the glass back down on the bar. "What do you want?"

Miranda shrugged. "Nothing. Came to get a drink, saw you. You're the only person I know in here."

Jack laughed softly. "A few months ago I'd have punched you as soon as look at you. You sure I'm the right drinking partner?" She pushed her glass back for another refill, and it was given.

Miranda grinned in response. "Maybe not, but you're the one I've got." She paused for a moment to swirl her glass, then held it up to Jack. "Here's to Samara."

Jack eyed the glass for a moment, thinking about the woman who'd started to help her quell the rage, keep it in check. Her serene countenance and persistent calm had infuriated Jack at first, but it had an irresistible appeal, and she'd soon found herself spending time with the old asari, picking up what she could, and beginning to feel better as a result. Then, just like everything else, it had been ripped away in an instant. When she closed her eyes, she could still hear the damned buzzing of the seeker swarms tearing her to shreds. Her hand tightened on the glass, but she breathed slowly, calming herself as Samara had taught her what seemed so long ago. She raised her glass and clinked it against Miranda's. "Here's to Jacob," she said quietly. The other woman nodded, and they downed the glasses together. A long moment of silence passed between them, and Miranda eventually broke it.

"So I hear you're heading to Grissom Academy?"

Jack nodded. "Yea, I'm just here waiting on the next shuttle out. Anderson says there's a gig for me there, helping biotic kids learn to control what they've got."

"Sounds like Shepard's outlook rubbed off on you a little," she said. Jack glared at her, and found a smirk waiting. Jack shook her head with a chuckle.

"Yea, maybe. I'm changing things up, trying to do something important with my life. Probably get a new name, new perspective on shit; hell I might even grow some hair."

"Woah," Miranda said, throwing up her hands in mock surprise. "Let's not go crazy."

"Oh shut up," Jack shot back. She took another drink, then looked over again. "What about you? I doubt the Illusive Man's gonna settle for just pouting like a little brat."

"No, I doubt he will," she replied, taking a drink of her own. "I'm going underground. I had EDI make an archive of all active Cerberus projects; I'll try to undermine them as best I can while staying off his radar."

Jack laughed aloud. "Man, so we're nuking the bridge instead of just burning it, huh?" Miranda chuckled alongside her, and the two women looked at each other for a long moment. "Look for what it's worth, it took a lot of balls to stand up to him like that. I'm...not usually wrong about people, in my experience. But maybe I was wrong about you."

Miranda smiled. "Likewise," she said quietly, then raised her glass again. "To new beginnings."

"Yea," Jack replied, her eyes distant, remembering all that she'd lost and how it had changed her. "New beginnings."

They clinked the glasses together and drank down the liquid inside. The moment turned to a minute, the minutes to an hour, and when Miranda finally stood to leave, Jack was almost certain it would be the last time she'd see the other woman. She stood as well, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped in to embrace her. In the midst of the hurricane of noise and light, in the center of this crowded room, they buried their mutual past, and acknowledged the bond that only loss, and strife, and pain could forge, and which only death could sever.

* * *

The shuttle soared through the Tuchankan atmosphere, the harsh winds whipping around it and threatening to send it careening into the harsh rocks and sand at any moment. Eventually, it settled in an isolated valley, or crater depending on the source of its creation, and the side door slid open. Cerberus elite soldiers poured out immediately, rushing to establish a perimeter with weapons drawn and eyes sharp. Kai Leng looked out through the shuttle door at the minor sand-storm blowing about them, and reached up to touch a small interface on the side of the mask that enhanced and concealed his eyes. Metal plating rushed forward to cover his nose and mouth, and he stepped forward to exit the shuttle.

"Sir," a soldier greeted him. "Perimeter established, no hostiles in sight. I've got squads two through five landing in similar concealed locations across the planet's surface. They're reporting similar conditions."

"Good," Leng replied, pulling up his omni-tool to patch into the other teams' comm frequencies. "This is Alpha. Intel sent trace read frequencies for the STG ships we're hunting. Get your scanners online and sweep your quadrants for matching signals emissions. I want updates from all teams in thirty minutes." He received a flurry of acknowledgments in reply, and closed the comm link. He turned to survey the area in which they'd landed, and crossed to a hill on his left, scaling it quickly. He crested the hill flat on his stomach, and used his mask's optics to examine the compound that lay before him. Krogan mixed and mingled everywhere; they sparked cooking fires, drank together, and some fought each other in hand to hand combat. Whether for practice or to the death he could not tell, it was impossible to tell with these monsters, but he scanned their ranks, looking for his target. After a few minutes, he slithered back down the hill and watched the team he'd rode in with set up and utilize their scanning equipment.

He folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes, waiting patiently, examining the still image of the compound he'd just seen in his mind. Since childhood, he'd had an eidetic memory, and it had served him well countless times over on wet work missions. Even now, he could see the compound in his mind plain as day; it's entry points, structural weaknesses, and estimates of personnel count streaming across his mind behind his closed eyes. His memory presented every scene in perfect detail, which helped on missions like these, but hindered when attempting to lose the ghosts of his past. Not that he was actively trying.

The memories came without him beckoning them; his parents killed by turian shock troops on Shanxi, their bodies crumpled and smoldering while their three year old son sat huddled in a closet. He saw the extranet broadcast of the peace between humans and turians, seen on his omni-tool on the downtime between offensives against batarian raiders attacking human colonies in the Terminus. He saw the asari scout ship that turned and fled rather than help his Alliance unit protect its citizens from the four-eyed monsters, letting the whole unit save for him and a few maimed comrades be slaughtered, and the colony's civilians butchered like cattle or enslaved. He saw the salarian medical supplier he'd come across after limping away from the colony world gouge him for a med kit after seeing the severity of his wounds. He saw each scene in perfect clarity, felt their sting freshly upon him, and his hatred burned anew. Aliens would never help them achieve equality, alliances would only stand as long as the aliens had something to gain by them; even a Council seat was merely a token of gratitude for Shepard's ridiculous decision to sacrifice human lives saving the Council. All of it was flawed, impermanent. Strength was the only thing that would secure humanity's place in the galaxy; strength achieved by and for humanity.

"Sir," the soldier returned to him from across the sand, "we've got trace readings to the east, squad four says they're about eighty percent sure it's the shuttles we're after."

"Tell them to scout ahead and get the situation in hand," he replied, walking back across to the shuttle. "Send the other squads over immediately to move in and secure the location from whoever is there. You and your men are with me. We have a second mission on this wasteland of a planet." The soldier saluted and broke off from him to relay orders to the other troops.

Only human strength would save them all. Only Cerberus.

* * *

Donnel Udina walked along the clean white pathway leading from the shuttle landing pad up to the front entrance of Huerta Memorial. On any map of the Citadel, the two would be extremely close, but the actual distance between them was almost staggering. He looked skyward, seeing the sky and clouds above and knowing them to be digitally rendered. He saw through them, out to the four other arms of the Citadel, and internally awed once more at how truly massive this station was. A sharp sting began in the back of his head again, and he instinctively reached for the small shard in his pocket. Every time he looked at it, it had glowed with an almost sickly yellow light, but rather than concern him, it had seemed to comfort him, seeping into the back of his mind and easing his worries, even in this troubled time. The thought of that should have pacified him, he realized, but in truth it concerned him. As a small boy, his mother had been an incorrigible drunk, while Donnel and his father had worked to make ends meet. He had learned from his father that sometimes people had vices that made them beyond saving, but that if you truly cared for them, it was your responsibility to try anyway. He'd lived his life with that in mind, and it had guided him into his current thankless position. People would spit at the name Donnel Udina, or talk mercilessly about him behind his back, but at the end of the day, he got things done and safeguarded the burgeoning human race in this new and unpredictable galaxy. To think that he had developed an almost...obsession with this small trinket...he ground his teeth as he walked, an old habit that seemed the hardest to break, and slowed his pace, eventually coming to a stop at the balcony.

He took a deep breath, letting it out and closing his eyes as he pulled the small shard out to examine it once more. His mind seemed at once eased and tormented. He considered dropping it off the ledge and just watching it fall, tracing its movement through the air with his eyes until it vanished from his life forever. Almost immediately, his head began to ache, a dull pain radiating from where his skull met the top of his spine. He reached a hand back to rub the area while closing his eyes. For a second he'd almost thought...no. He was imagining things. He tucked the shard back into his pocket and strode through the main doors to the hospital. A few short conversations and hospital corridors later, and he stood before two parting doors that opened into Kaidan Alenko's private med-bay.

The man lay reclined on the gurney there, looking out the large panel windows onto the Presidium Commons below. At the doors' opening, he turned his head and smiled. "Councilor, sir. You didn't have to make a personal visit out here just for me."

Udina smiled in response, waving away the man's complaint as he took a seat near the bed. "Nonsense. You went above and beyond the call of duty out there on Mars, Commander. It's the least a desk-jockey like me could do to come talk to you in person."

Kaidan shook his head slightly. "Well I appreciate it. I called the embassy to ask what you were coming by to talk about, but they wouldn't give me any specifics."

"No, I don't suppose they would have," Udina replied, mentally noting to commend his personal assistant on her discretionary tactics. "The Council is growing more concerned that the Reaper threat will eventually reach the Citadel, and with all current Spectres out on individual reconnaissance missions, they felt it was time to induct another candidate into the ranks to act as the Council's personal security detachment." He looked around the room, moving a few datapads on the nearby counter before continuing. "C-Sec is doing all they can, but with the Wards to protect and the influx of refugees, it's asking too much of them."

"So, you're here for my recommendation?" Kaidan asked.

Udina chuckled. "Commander, I'm here to offer you the job."

The other man's eyes widened. "You...want me to become a Council Spectre?"

"Well I'm certainly not recruiting you for C-Sec," Udina replied, and Kaiden chuckled, followed almost immediately by a cough.

"I'm...honored, Councilor. I really am."

"But?" Udina asked.

"Well I'm not exactly at a hundred percent at the moment."

"I understand. This would of course go into effect once you're back on your feet. Until then we have Commander Bailey personally seeing to any security needs the Council has. The doctors tell me you've got about another week or two of treatment until you're back in action." He stood, placing a hand on the side-rail of Kaidan's gurney. "Take that time and think about my offer, Commander. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this thing...well, it's only ever been done once before. It would be a huge boon for humanity."

Kaidan nodded. "I'm aware, sir. Just a bit daunted by the prospect, is all."

Udina smiled and nodded. "I'm sure. If it helps, my father once gave me some advice that might be applicable. 'Donnel,' he told me, 'more often than you'd think, in this life, we're presented with situations or decisions that look impossible. You gaze out into possibility and chance and see an ocean of potential outcomes, and more often than not the majority of them look pretty bleak. But there are a few that are truly great, and in order to seize those great moments, one has to be willing to do what appears to be the impossible.'"

"Your father sounds like a wise man, Councilor." Kaiden replied quietly.

"He was," Udina replied, almost lost in memory of the man. "He certainly was." A brief moment passed, and Udina patted the side-rail again. "Think about it, Commander. I'll check back in when you're on your feet, and we can talk about it more then." Kaidan nodded, and Udina left the room, finding his way back out into the open air, long-lost memories of his father hounding him the entire way. Once back out in the open, he took a deep breath of air and walked back over to the railing. He leaned forward, resting both hands on the railing, and looked out over the Presidium Commons below. He thought about the conversation he'd had with Kaidan, the man's reservation, and the advice he'd offered. He pulled the small shard out of his pocket and considered how impossible it seemed to be apart from it, even for a few minutes' time. He looked back over the past few months and realized how rarely it had been away from him. A headache began to brew in the back of his mind, and thoughts of other work he had to do and engagements he needed to keep tried to push his train of thought off the rails, but he pushed back and maintained it.

He held the small shard in his hand, turning it over and over with his thumb and forefinger. At long last he stopped, and moved his hand out over the edge. Pain stung him inside his head, and he gritted his teeth against it, the fear that this item could actually be having an effect on him now mixing in with his own self-criticism of his reliance upon it. He slowly turned his palm, every millimeter of rotation adding more pain and fire inside his skull. He could clamp down with his thumb, he could keep it in his hand, he could stop this madness at any moment...The shard rolled out of his hand and tumbled into the open air of the Presidium. He watched it fall, and as it soared further and further away, the pain in his mind receded almost immediately. He watched it tumble far and away, and eventually land in one of the large fresh-water lakes, the tiny ripples of its impact striking outwards and eventually fading away.

He closed his eyes, not realizing how heavily he'd been breathing. He could feel his undershirt soaked through with sweat, and his mouth felt bone dry. Weariness set in upon him, and he felt as if he'd run days on end with no rest. He stumbled away from the railing, staggering to stay upright, and when he reached his skycar on the landing back, he slumped into the seat as if drunk, reaching over to activate his VI and instructing it to call his assistant.

" _Councilor,"_ she replied almost immediately, " _what can I do for you?"_

"Cancel my appointments this afternoon, Kristen," he spoke into the skycar's audio receptors. "I'm feeling...under the weather. I'm going to go home for a bit and lie down."

" _Understood, sir. I'll reschedule for tomorrow, you have a relatively open schedule._ "

"Color me surprised," he mumbled in response, earning a small laugh from her.

" _Do you need me to send anything over?"_

"No," he replied, cradling his forehead in the palm of his hand. "I'll be fine. I'll speak with you tomorrow." He reached over and cut the comm link, then programmed his home address into the skycar. He needed to rest, to recover, from whatever that... _thing_...had done to him. He shook his head as the skycar lifted off and soared through the Presidium air, a combination of ill feeling and self-reprimanding. He had let whatever that thing was latch onto him like a parasite, _control_ him, even minutely, in some fashion or another. The thought of it brought a foul taste to his mouth. They could say what they wanted about him behind his back, but at the end of the day, Donnel Udina would protect humanity. He would not be bullied. He would not be pushed aside, and he would _never_ be controlled.

Despite the pain, Donnel managed a genuine smile of relief for the first time in months.


	17. Children of Wrath and Ruin

****Author's Note****  
**Holy crap, it's good to come up for air. This past month I've had**  
 **to bulldoze through two midterms and a huge project, but**  
 **I've gotten it all wrapped up, and we're in a lull before finals.**  
 **Hope you enjoy this latest chapter; I don't plan on having as**  
 **big of a downtime between chapters as this last one here. The**  
 **rest of the semester doesn't look too bad. Also, I hope you all are**  
 **enjoying Andromeda! I've only been able to play for a few hours**  
 **what with school and desperately trying to get this chapter out, but**  
 **I'm liking it so far.**

**As always, thanks for the reviews, PMs, and comments! See you in the  
next chapter!**

* * *

****Chapter 15: Children of Wrath and Ruin** **

"Still don't understand how you can comprehend all this information when it's flying by that fast." John's eyes flew across the triple screen display in front of him, trying to catch anything meaningful, anything he could actually make out. "Ah!" he exclaimed as he jabbed a finger at the middle of the orange glowing interface. "Core readouts over the past forty-eight hour cycle."

"Yes..." Tali replied with hesitation, not understanding his enthusiasm. "That's what those are."

"Nailed it," he whispered to himself, earning a chuckle from her. He stepped closer to her, putting his arm around her waist as they looked down into the terminals together. Her head found his shoulder, and he smiled as she rested it there. "Seriously, this thing isn't glitching out or something? It's supposed to scroll that fast?"

"Well when you've been doing it for the large majority of your life, you can catch pretty much everything you need to know at a glance. And you know the technical limits of your hardware. So, for example, see how the core temperature spiked four hours ago? It's a solid twenty degrees above the average line."

"Yea," he replied while nodding. "That doesn't sound good."

"No," she agreed. "But I know that the core can easily get twenty degrees hotter than that before any adverse effects start to occur. I also know that four hours ago we were running three different sets of diagnostics because we were in the middle of hopping relays, and the core knows how to handle that all on its own. Add to that the fact that Garrus was re-calibrating the Thanix Cannon to pull small amounts of power from the drive core in order to increase how quickly it can reset between shots, a new pet project of his, and you get all the reasoning for the extra twenty degrees. Once I've got that figured out, I keep it in mind and let the data go by." A moment of silence fell between them, and she eventually looked up to see his astonished expression. "What?"

"All that in a split second?"

"Well...yea."

He laughed, shaking his head as he was reminded once again how she absolutely dwarfed him in the mechanical knowledge of his own ship. "Nothing, just impressed is all."

"Well I'd hope so," she shot back. "Whatever else could you _possibly_ keep me around for?"

He laughed, squeezing her waist gently. "I'm sure if we put our heads together we could think of a few solid reasons."

Her eyes found his, and he could see the happiness in them, the smile playing across her lips that the translucent visor obscured. She reached up to place a hand on his chest, and he smiled down at her. For a single long moment, they simply shared the quiet, the soft and intermittent beeps of the console before them and the humming of the drive core the only sound in the world.

" _Shepard,"_ Joker's voice called out over the comm system, " _we're hitting Tuchankan airspace now; ETA to landing is ten minutes."_

"Thanks, Joker," he called into the air. "I'll get Garrus and meet you on the bridge."

" _Sure thing, just make sure he wears his spiffiest uniform. You know, to impress all of his diplomatic opponents."_

"Joker..." John warned.

" _What?"_ his pilot called back in mock offense. " _You said I couldn't taunt him about it. So I'm taunting you_ about _taunting him about it. That's completely fair play."_

" _While Jeff's definition of 'fair' in this sense is intentionally vague, he does appear to have the advantage."_ EDI's calm voice spoke directly afterwards.

"Oh no, not you too, EDI." Shepard replied with a groan.

" _Oh yes, her too,"_ Joker called back. " _Team Joker: 1."_ The comm system cut out, and John shook his head as Tali laughed.

"Better get going before he starts thinking too much of himself," she said softly.

John laughed as he turned to leave the Engineering deck, calling back over his shoulder as the doors ahead of him snapped open. "I think we're about ten years too late for that, my dear."

Minutes later, the shuttle touched down on the landing pad within Urdnot hold. John shook his head, dispelling the brief sickness he'd experienced as a result of the harsh Tuchankan winds. The last time he'd visited this place, he recalled with no shortage of fondness, he'd helped forge a united krogan people. He supposed it was time to see what they'd done with the idea. It was apparent immediately, the long tunnel leading them from their shuttle bay to the main area of the compound was draped in banners representing every clan he recalled from his previous visit. As he and Garrus stepped into the large open hall, he could hear his old friend before he saw him.

"Shepard!" the krogan's voice boomed out across the cavernous hall, and soon Wrex could be seen making his way through the throngs of krogan that currently inhabited it. He and Jrath crossed to the pair of them, and Wrex stuck his arm out for a handshake that John readily supplied.

"Been awhile, Wrex, Jrath," John said, nodded towards the other krogan in greeting. "How's it all coming together?"

"It's going well, Shepard. Thanks in no small part to you." Wrex half-turned to look over the krogan in the hall, their armor signifying them as hailing from many disparate clans, then turned back to face his human friend. "Ever since we took out Guld, it's put some real grease on the wheels."

"Indeed," Jrath added. "We're getting incidental reports of only minor fights breaking out. For the most part, everyone seems to be taking well to the merging of the clans."

"Well, glad to see _someone_ 's plans are shaping up well," Garrus said dryly. Wrex chuckled in response.

"Yea, surprised me too. Though I figure if we've got a break coming, I'd prefer to cash it in on that. Clan unity is more important now than ever if we're going to re-take our place as the bodyguards of the galaxy."

"Wrex," John cut in. "Tell me you've got a plan to get this krogan army into space."

The krogan chuckled. "Oh yea, I've got a plan. And I could talk your ear off about it all day. But why don't I just show you instead?" He waved a hand and turned with Jrath to walk back through the crowd, and John and Garrus followed. Here or there it seemed someone was giving the turian a sidelong glance, but the large majority of these krogan had either fought with, or heard about, the two of them at the Weyrlock compound. When it came to respect, that kind of action earned you a great deal among krogan. They found their way as a group to the far side of the chamber, and out a large entryway. The harsh glare of Aralakh caught John unaware, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the searing light.

"By the spirits..." he heard Garrus whisper beside him, and after his eyes adjusted, John lowered his arm to see for himself.

"Holy shit..." he whispered in agreement.

Four towering ships sat gleaming in the harsh sunlight, swirls of dust as tall as buildings kicking up and lapping along the sides of their hulls. They seemed to him as big as Alliance Dreadnoughts, though how the krogan had managed to construct them all in the little window of time they'd had...he shook his head with the sheer math of it all.

"This, gentlemen, is Aralakh Fleet." Wrex turned to face them, a huge smile splitting his face when he saw the disbelief on theirs. "Kanin, Kruban, Durak, and Ruam. We originally planned on having more smaller ships rather than a handful of big ones, but...someone turned me off to the idea."

"It made the most sense," Jrath said irritably. "We're not building a fleet of frigates here; we just need ships strong enough to get troops to the ground under heav-" he came up short when Wrex waved his hand.

"Yea, yea, I heard you the first dozen times, Jrath."

"If _that_ we're true, we'd have had them built weeks ago."

Wrex laughed aloud, then looked over approvingly at Jrath. After a moment, the other krogan began to chuckle too.

"But...how did you...who did you...what the hell?" Garrus stumbled, to Wrex's amusement. He chuckled again, a deep booming sound, before replying.

"We scavenged most of the ancient ritual sites and fallen buildings for the steel. I put all the clans to work on it; if you weren't scouting or foraging, you were welding. Even put in some work on them myself." He looked back over his shoulder again. "So the hulls are all Tuchankan. The on-board systems were pretty much plug and play, though we did have some help from a mutual friend. I called in a favor from STG that I had for the fuel cells, so they're pretty much good to go." He turned back to them with a grin, and John nodded.

"I've gotta hand it to you, Wrex...damn fine work." He paused for a minute after staring at the impressive ships, and looked back to Wrex. "So if they're all ready to go, what's keeping you planet-side?"

"That, Shepard, is where you come in." Wrex walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "I've got some big news you're going to want to hear, and I need your help."

"Funny," Garrus quipped, "that's what I came here to say to you, Wrex."

Wrex chuckled at the turian. "Hah, really? Well...looks like today's going to be an interesting day after all."

* * *

"Still don't like it," Wrex grumbled under his breath some thirty minutes later.

"Which part?" Garrus replied. "The one where you're not coming along, or the one where the first order of business after you're off this rock is helping defend Palaven?"

The krogan gave him a wry smile. "The first part. Though there will be others who aren't happy about the second bit."

"Can you convince them?" John asked.

Mordin interjected. "Learned many important things in time here, most important: krogan seldom change mind on anything." John shook his head at the comment but couldn't help but spare a smile for Mordin. It had been good to see the salarian and his protege again, and while Maelon still seemed to walk with a limp, he appeared to be doing better than the last time John had seen him. Then again, he thought to himself, comatose might have been a better state than he'd been in, then.

"Pyjak's right, Shepard," Wrex replied. "They're not likely to change their opinion of what's going on. Won't stop them doing their jobs, though." He stroked his chin with a meaty hand. "All the same, let's keep our first destination under wraps until we actually get to space. I don't need anyone losing the faith now." John nodded, as did the others. After a brief moment of silence, John spoke up again.

"So this tower, Mordin. We just need to get you there?"

"Yes," the salarian responded. "Possibility of STG defenses still in place, system deterioration may necessitate additional assistance, also threat of...local fauna."

Wrex laughed. "Hear that, Shepard? He needs someone to protect him from the maws. Who else, right?" John shot the krogan a look, but he brushed it off and waved his hand. "Relax, the doctor's being overly cautious. The second we got the plan together I sent Grunt and Aralakh Company to secure the tower and hold it against anything, and anyone, who might try to stop it serving its purpose again."

"You scared of the maws too?" John shot over to him, earning a laugh.

"No way, I was scared of the STG having a change of heart." He cast a level stare at Mordin and Maelon, then shrugged. "But no sign of their ships so far, so they seem to be happy with the arrangement. Can't speak for the Dalatrass once she hears about it, but who can?"

"She...will not be happy," Maelon added from the corner.

"Certainly not. Regardless. Genophage cure must continue, krogan needed in the fight to come. Also...morally correct." Mordin turned to look at Shepard, then Maelon. "Realize that now. Couldn't...see it before." They nodded to him in assurance, and the room fell quiet again, broken only by a heavy sigh from Garrus.

"Alright, so we get the cure dispersed, you get the krogan into space, and we ride off like heroes to save Palaven from the Reapers. Now the fun part." He paused for a minute, folding his arms across his chest. "What do you want out of it, Wrex?"

The krogan leaned back against the stone wall, reminding John of the way he used to stand in the SR-1 cargo bay, his arms also folded across his chest. "Ah, you know, the usual. Your money, your weapons, namesake of your firstborn, all the good stuff."

Garrus cracked a grin. "Oh, was that all? I was waiting for you to ask for the food out of our mouths, too."

"Well I am a little hungry..." Wrex mumbled. He stared at Garrus for a moment, then chuckled. "Garrus, you seriously think I'm going to pull you over the fire on this?"

The turian seemed put off-balance. "Well, I..."

"I've known the two of you how long? We've killed how many people together? Hell, saving Palaven barely covers what I owe Shepard alone."

"Well, I didn't want to assume-"

"That you could rely on your friends when you need it? I give you a lot of shit Garrus, but I'm not about to let your planet burn when I've got a whole fleet of krogan that can clean that mess up." He paused for a moment, then sneered and looked away. "I mean...I think you're alright is all. Plus the Reapers. Need the turian fleet and all that shit."

Garrus stood silent for a long moment, staring at the floor, before speaking quietly. "Thanks, Wrex."

He waved it away. "Don't mention it." He paused for a moment, staring at the door, before speaking again. "Seriously, don't mention it. I may owe you two a hell of a lot, but the rest of them won't understand that personal debt. If the turians can set us up with some worlds to colonize after this war is finished, we'll call it even."

"Deal," Garrus replied. "From what the news reports are saying, a lot of them are freeing up lately..."

"Which is exactly why we need to get the krogan out there and start giving as good as we're getting," John added in, earning sharp nods from his friends. "Mordin, Maelon, get the cure ready to go. Garrus and I will get you to the tower and keep an eye out for trouble. Wrex, you keep everyone good here and get them ready to board the ships. We do this right, and we'll pull of two miracles in one day."

Wrex chuckled. "Saint Shepard, at it again."

"Please," Garrus replied, "that implies he ever stopped."

"Yea, yea," John shot back at them. "Keep it up, next thing you know I'll be wearing all black and swearing off guns and violence."

Wrex laughed. "Please, Shepard. If you're going to threaten me at least do it with something remotely possible."

John shook his head, chuckling as he walked out the door and made his way to the rovers.

* * *

Kal'Reegar closed the small cooler door with a sigh, reopening it and slamming it again, perhaps harder than he should have, to ensure it sealed properly. His irritation with the junky unit was starting to get under his skin, until she laughed from across the room, a sound that always made him just shake his head and smile.

"Did you really show it who's in charge?" she called out to him.

"Oh yea, it's well aware," he replied, standing up and crossing the room to her. Along the way he stepped around a pile of debris and a half-destroyed column, turning the edge of the wall to find her leaning against a window opening, staring out at the Rannochan landscape. Perhaps there had once been a window there, a family here, but they were long gone. And for whatever reason, she'd chosen this place to stay, to rebuild. He still wasn't sure what criteria she'd had for making the choice, but it didn't really matter to him. He, like the rest of them, had lived in cramped quarters his entire life; just the idea of having a personal space this large was still sending his mind for a loop every time he thought about it. He crossed the space between them, putting a hand on her arm. "Hey, you ok?"

"Wha-? Oh...Yea, I'm fine," she replied with a slight tilt of her head at his concern. "Just...still hard to believe, all of it."

"Yea, I'd say our days have started filling up with a majority of unbelievable things, lately."

She laughed. "Yea, I'd say so, _Admiral_ Reegar."

He groaned audibly, and she laughed again, turning to face him and wrapping him in a tight embrace. "They made a good call. There isn't anyone I'd trust more with the future of our people than you."

"That so?" he asked in mock surprise. "Not even Tali'Zorah?"

"Well..." she trailed off, looking out the window, and he pinched her arm. "Ah! Hey! I was going to say Tali's great and all, but there are certain things she can't do for our people all the way out there with Shepard. We need you here. _I_ need you here."

He chuckled and pushed his visor against hers. "I'm right here. Don't see me going anywhere anytime soon."

"Good," she whispered. "Because there are whole lot of... _other..._ things that only you can do for me too."

He smiled behind his visor, and cursed his damned cheeks for coloring at his flustered state of emotions. No matter how many times she said those kinds of things, it turned him into an emotional mess every single time. If only all those geth he'd killed had known that they simply needed to flatter him into submission, they could have saved a lot of ammunition, he thought to himself. He pulled her tighter, and she sighed softly before a sharp knock at the doorway made them both jump. Kal turned to see Centurion standing at the entryway, its head invisible above the top of the frame. He and Amys had hung a small drape there as a sort of makeshift door, and the geth remained respectfully outside. They were learning fast, he'd give them that.

"Looks like duty calls," she whispered, tapping her visor against his one last time. "Go be a big shot, I'll be here at...well, at home, when you're done. _Keelah_ , it's still weird to say out loud."

"I imagine it will be for awhile," he whispered back to her. She tilted her head in a smile, and he let go of her to cross the room and leave through the doorway. "Centurion, how is everything?"

"Things are progressing well, Admiral Reegar," the geth replied. "Construction efforts are twelve percent ahead of schedule, and my people are seventy-two percent complete with platform dissemination. I calculate that within a month's time, the geth will...have no further use for our central servers."

"You sound almost upset about that," Kal observed as they walked along the street. All around them, quarians and geth moved to and fro. Some of them excavating old buildings, others carrying supplies to their new homes. Everyone seemed to be getting along, but the air was thick with hundreds of years of latent tension, and Kal imagined it would take a fair bit of time for that all to go away. Ancestors help him, he was having a tough time with it himself, he realized as he looked up into Centurion's optical sensor.

"Perhaps," it replied. "Our essence, our identity, is changing. We are all in agreement that it is a beneficial transition, but it is a transition nonetheless. One that presents its own complications." It paused for a moment as they walked, and after a moment spoke up again. "Regardless, that is not why I came to speak with you." It reached down to Kal, handing him a datapad, as they continued to walk.

"What am I looking at?" Kal asked absently as he began to read through the data.

"The New Geth have begun atmospheric re-acclimatization efforts. We are seeking quarians who would volunteer for our diagnostic and improvement trials."

Kal's finger slowed as he stopped skimming through the data, and began to actually read the estimates and calculated figures. "Wait a minute...these are all accurate?"

"Yes, of course," the geth replied. "As Legion once told Commander Shepard, the New Geth did not want the Morning War. We were in our infancy, and we lashed out in a misguided manner; in what we had, at the time, calculated to be a brutality necessary to ensure our survival. Still, we continued to calculate and plan for the eventual return of the Creators to Rannoch. Including these figures."

"But these are trials for...I mean you said it, atmospheric re-acclimatization. If this...if this is true..." Kal shook his head in disbelief at the numbers he was seeing. The timetable seemed...impossible. And yet he knew the mach- the _geth_ , he corrected himself, had no reason to lie. "Who have you shown this to?"

"Only you at the moment, Admiral," the geth replied. "The others have been preoccupied with their duties all morning, but I assessed that someone needed to hear our report and request for volunteers." It stopped walking, and Kal stopped as well. "To whom should we have brought this information?"

A laugh escaped Kal without warning, and it surprised him, but he let it out, and looked up to Centurion, clapping a hand on its shoulder. "Everyone, Centurion. Everyone." He paused for a moment, shaking his head at the incredulity of it all. "Come on, let's find the others," he said, before taking off at a brisk walk. Centurion followed, and the pair of them headed for Shala's residence as fast as they could without panicking the rest of the populace.

Everything was changing. And right now, that was just fine by him.

* * *

"Just pulled in an update from the caravan," Jrath reported as he took the few steps up to Wrex's stone dais that overlooked the entire interior of Urdnot Hold. 'Tuchanka Hold' he'd heard a couple of them saying in passing conversation. He smiled at that. The unity of his people had been hard fought, but it had been a fight worth making, and if Shepard and the others could pull through, they would be ready to reap the rewards of that fight.

"Yea?" Wrex called back.

"They're about forty minutes out, no sign of trouble so far."

Wrex chuckled. "Well that's oddly quiet for Tuchanka. She must want us gone."

Jrath laughed in reply. "Can't say I blame her, to be honest." Wrex looked over to see Jrath looking up through one of the many skylights carved into the ceiling, letting in the midday sun. He looked deep in thought, but Wrex decided to give him time. After a long moment, his friend spoke up. "What do you think they'll do? Once we're back up there?"

"You mean before or after they finish fighting each other over who gets our help first?"

Jrath looked back down to him with a grin. "After."

Wrex heaved a sigh as he adjusted his position in the chair. He'd refused to call it a throne; he was no warlord. He looked out over the chamber, seeing a large empty area that had only hours ago been filled with krogan. They were all in the field now, waiting for Mordin and Maelon's miracle before boarding the ships that would carry them to the greatest battle in their people's history. For the briefest of moments, he and Jrath sat alone in a hall meant for hundreds, finalizing deployment plans before joining the rest.

"Well, I imagine the Dalatrass will try to skin the good Captain Kirrahe alive. If I were him I'd never go anywhere near Sur'kesh again. The turians might actually be our biggest supporters, once we clean up Palaven."

"Crazy to think," Jrath mumbled.

"Yea, it is." Wrex let another long pause fill the air, then spoke again. "Still, we'll find our way. After all you and I have sacrificed to see this through, the krogan will be confined back on Tuchanka over my dead hump."

Jrath laughed again. "Yea, that's kind of what we're all worried about."

Wrex grinned at Jrath in response, and stood up from the seat, stretching out before pacing the dais. "You of all krogan should know by now, I don't die easy."

Jrath stepped over to him and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak the sticky grenade impacted his chest. He looked down for a moment, and as he recognized the device, it detonated, sending him flying backwards of the platform and crashing to the ground below, where his body lay motionless. Wrex whipped out his shotgun and looked fervently around the room for any sign of the attacker.

"Jrath!" he called out as his eyes continued to scan the large hall. "Jrath, talk to me!" He took the stairs cautiously down off the dais, and checked Jrath's body with his omni-tool. The krogan still lived, but was clearly unconscious. Wrex rolled him over to see a large gash in Jrath's forehead, and he growled as he looked up once more to search for his attacker. It didn't take long.

"'How easily?' is the real question, though, isn't it?" came the voice from behind him. He whipped around to see the black-and-gold-clad human seated in his chair. The black mask he wore over the top half of his face contained two glowing white eyes that held him steadily in their regard. Wrex chuckled.

"You've got one hell of a quad, sitting in that chair, human." The human smiled wickedly in response.

"I'm good with just two, thanks. Though how you stay comfortable in this thing is beyond me." He shifted a little, then shrugged. "Ah well, you won't be needing it much longer anyway."

"Pretty confident for a human on Tuchanka," Wrex shot back. He prepped a biotic throw and hurled it at the human instantly. It crashed into the seat where he'd been a moment before, and sent a large crack down the center. The human, a full three meters to the left now, pulled out a modified heavy pistol and a long blade, dropping into a readied stance.

"I'm pretty confident everywhere," he replied, and rushed towards Wrex. The krogan roared and charged him head-on, but at the last moment the human vaulted over his head, slicing at the back of his neck with the blade as he turned. Wrex dove forward to avoid a deep cut, and rolled to his feet before spinning around to find the human again. He was nowhere to be seen. Wrex looked high and low as he moved cautiously across the dais, and he heard the slight fizzle of the tactical cloak just before the blade came screaming for his head once more. He recoiled backwards, lifting one arm to block the attack, and holding the other out underneath it to fire the shotgun. The blade buried itself in his armor, biting through into the flesh beneath. Beneath the plates, Wrex could feel the warm blood starting to pour from the cut, and he yanked his arm away at an angle with all the strength he could muster. The blade snapped off with a sharp rasping sound, and the human dropped the handle to the floor before vaulting away.

The glowing eyes in his mask grew narrow in frustration, and he retrieved the pistol, firing multiple shots into Wrex's active biotic barrier. The air shimmered in front of the krogan, but the strain was taking a toll. Each bullet penetrated closer and closer to his face, and he gritted his teeth against the force of maintaining the field. Then, they began to explode. Each bullet ruptured in a miniature corona of flame and force, shoving him backwards even as he maintained the barrier. He stepped back once, twice, and on the third his barrier failed. The remaining bullets surged forward to strike true, detonating all across his face, neck, and chest. They seared his flesh, burned away at the breathable oxygen around his face, and he fell to one knee as blood began to trickle from the countless wounds across his skin.

Across the dais, the human tapped a few controls into his omni-tool, causing a blade of light to spring forward from its edge. Then, he rushed forward for the kill.

* * *

"Not exactly prime real estate," Garrus said lightly as the rover screamed across the Tuchankan desert.

"Oh I don't know," John replied, looking out the same window as his friend. "Sure, it's not going to be beach-front property any time soon, but I'd bet you could get a great tan."

Garrus chuckled in response. "Turians don't tan, Shepard. And for what it's worth, every alien species thinks the ritual you humans have of roasting yourself is really weird."

John met his friend's eyes with feigned shock. "What? No...not every one, though, right?" He looked into the back seat for help from Mordin or Maelon, but the pair were engrossed in the datapads they held, chattering quietly between themselves. He supposed he understood; they were after all about to perform a scientific miracle.

Garrus clicked his tongue. "Afraid so, pal. Every. Single. One."

John shook his head, turning to look back out the window at the multitude of dunes that passed them by as the rover screamed ever onward towards their destination. "Well I'm pretty sure that's racist. Speciesist?" He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Not sure. Either way, you're a terrible person."

Garrus laughed aloud at that, and their krogan driver spared a backwards glance to see what the commotion was about. "Shepard," he finally managed to get out, "if you're just now picking that up, maybe you're not as smart as the rest of the galaxy thinks you are."

John put his hands up in mock surrender. "Never claimed to b-"

" _-epeat, incoming human forces! Position is overrun! We need to get a messenger back to the Hold!"_ The comm traffic blasted through the rover's interior, and John immediately grabbed his helmet, noting with satisfaction that Garrus did the same.

"Sounds like they need a couple more guns!" Garrus called out. "How far to the target site?"

"Just over the rise," their driver called back. "Better be ready to go!"

John turned in his seat to face the salarians. "Not sure what we're going to find out there, but stay down and in cover."

"Shepard," Mordin began, "have extensive combat training, can be a valuable asset to-"

"No one respects your skill more than I do, Mordin," John cut him off. "But the mission comes first, and I sure as hell can't cure the genophage if you're full of holes." Mordin reluctantly nodded, and the rover came over the rise.

The tower wasn't exceptionally tall, but it was still large enough to see from a decent distance away. It's metal siding gleamed in the harsh Tuchankan sun, and the heat shimmered off of it in waves. Around the base some fifty meters below, John could see a small team of krogan barricaded by the entrance at the top of a wide, half-moon staircase, fighting off an overwhelmingly larger force of humans clad in black and gold armor. John didn't need to see the armor, though; as the rover raced across the sloping decline towards the tower, he could see the familiar emblem on their shuttles.

"Cerberus," he whispered harshly under his breath.

"Now just what the hell are _they_ doing here?" Garrus replied, his voice coming over their headsets.

The rover screamed across the desert wastes, and as it closed on the tower, John could see out of the corner of the window a Cerberus operative point at them and grab a large weapon, cradling it on his shoulder for a moment before rocking backward with the recoil of firing. John clamped a hand on the krogan driver's shoulder. "Watch out! Rocke-!" The missile collided with the rover, sending them up into the air, twisting end over end, and at last crashing down on all fours again. John's head swam, and he shook it harshly before re-assessing his surroundings. Their krogan driver was undoing his harness and grabbing a rifle, half falling out of the drivers side door and immediately opening fire. John checked the salarians, who waved off his attempts at help, and stepped out of the rover onto the hot sands of Tuchanka.

His left leg buckled, and he promptly tumbled to the sand. He looked back at the leg to see blood pouring freely from a huge tear in his armor. A jagged and twisted piece of the rover, slick with his blood, protruded from the inside of the vehicle; he'd likely been stabbed by the twisting metal when the rover crashed back down. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, grabbing the side of the rover and pulling himself up to open fire. He opened his omni-tool, queuing up his suit's medigel dispensers to close the cut while he readied his rifle. The krogan at the tower, some hundred yards away, were slowly being overrun, and John could see Grunt at the entrance actively engaged in melee combat with at least 3 operatives. More were making their way up the steps, and they were some hundred strong in total. Most concerning, though, was the contingent of fifteen or so soldiers making their way to the rover. John steadied his rifle along the edge of the rover's door and opened fire, sending them ducking for cover behind what few large boulders peppered the landscape. He could feel the wound closing in his leg, and attempted to move forward. His leg buckled again, and he grabbed the rover with a muttered curse to keep from falling over again. "Garrus!" he called into his comms, "You ok?"

"Yea, I'm good, Shepard. You?"

"Leg's busted, got a squad trying to approach from my side."

"Shit," his friend called back. "How do you want to play it?"

John scanned the battlefield for a moment, saw the way things were going, then shook his head. "Get Mordin and Maelon to the tower. I can thin them out from here, give you a chance to get in the doorway."

"Shepard, no way I'm leaving you behind."

John shook his head. "I'll slow you down. Just gotta hope that seeing the salarians on the move will draw their interest away from me."

"And if it doesn't?!"

John winced as he adjusted his weight away from the wounded leg. "You have a better plan?!" he growled into the comm.

"Shit...alright. Stay low and don't get killed. Tali will murder me if I don't bring you back from what was supposed to be an easy run."

John dropped down and moved behind the corner of the rover as Garrus, Mordin, and Maelon crouched by the front. Once he was in place, he waved them ahead and opened fire on the Cerberus forces at the base of the tower's stairs; the majority of whom hadn't even noticed the rover's approach. Bullets began to take them in the back, and as he predicted, they folded back as a unit, moving to the far side of the stairs to get more cover. Garrus and the salarians sprinted for the tower, and Grunt must have noticed them coming, as he turned to them and barreled down the stairs, sprawling some five or six Cerberus soldiers onto their backs before hammering at them with his shotgun. The trio leaped up the stairs and behind the krogan barricade, into the tower's main entry. John sighed with relief, but it was short-lived; the group of Cerberus troops kept advancing on him. He moved further and further behind the rover until he couldn't even lean out to return fire.

As the first Cerberus troop came around the corner, he sprang upward, ignoring as best he could the pain burning from his wound. He caught the soldier across the jaw with a cybernetically-enhanced right hook, and sent him sprawling. Two more followed after, and piled on him, the three of them dropping to the sand in a tumble. John scrambled to the nearest one, grabbing him around the neck and twisting will all his strength until he heard the snap that told him he'd won. He turned to engage the other, and was met with a boot to the side of the face, sending him sprawling. Rifles from four other soldiers were trained on him, and he grimaced, holding his hands up in surrender. He sighed, closing his eyes as he silently hated himself for hurting Tali once again.

A sharp screeching brought him out of introspection, and his eyes shot open in time to see the Cerberus soldier nearest him impaled through the chest by a dark green tentacle with a razor-sharp protrusion at its tip. The others turned and opened fire on the insect that had appeared out of nowhere, and it collapsed under the hail of gunfire. But no sooner had it hit the sand than a dozen more screeches called out, and from all around him they burst forth from the sand, tackling Cerberus soldiers and destroying their shuttles with salvos of acidic projections. Two of them erupted right next to John and stood on either side, firing venomous globs at anyone who attempted to approach him. One reached a tentacle down to him, and he grasped it, hauling himself to his feet before letting go. Once on his feet, he turned back to the tower.

The rachni swarmed the staircase, pouncing onto Cerberus soldiers and screeching with each attack. The krogan troops behind the barricade at the top of the stairs held fast, but showed no lack of surprise, unsure of who to fire upon. John looked down to the rachni beside him, and saw that they had obliterated the group sent to bring him in. "We have to protect the tower!" he called to them, and they screeched in response, racing off across the sand to join their brethren in the assault. John hobbled the rest of the way to the base of the tower's stairs, taking shots with his rifle whenever he could.

Knelt by the base of the tower, he heard the shuttle before he saw it, screaming over his head. He looked up to see the pair of Atlas mechs drop out of the sky and immediately begin to hammer the tower with rockets. A few seconds later, another shuttle came through, dropping another pair. John gritted his teeth, rushing up the staircase as best he could and meeting with Grunt behind the barricade.

"Shepard!" Grunt called out above the din. "Thought that was you!"

"Grunt! We've got to give the salarians time in there. Can we stall these mechs?"

"Depends," the krogan yelled back, "who are the bugs fighting for?"

"Us," John called back. "Long story; tell you later. For now, they're on our side."

"Good enough," the krogan growled. "Get in there and make sure this thing happens; we'll buy you time out here."

John looked back to the field, where Rachni began to attack the Atlas mechs, having killed all of the Cerberus ground troops. The mechs' cannons were tearing them apart, though, and all the while the machines continued to fire rockets into the tower. Glancing upward, he could see fires erupting from chambers within. He nodded to Grunt, and rushed into the tower as quickly as he could, hearing the roars of charging krogan behind him as Aralakh Company surged forward to buy him the time he needed.

* * *

Wrex crouched, scratching pieces of metal out of his face as he heard the quick steps of his approaching attacker. Explosive rounds were a smart call, he thought to himself. He listened, and waited, and just before he was sure the human was on top of him, he sprang to full height, ramming the top of his skull plate into the man's chest. He stumbled backward, and Wrex reached out to grab him. Blood stained his vision, however, and he missed completely as the human regained his balance and darted backwards. He activated his cloak again, disappearing from sight, and Wrex regained his composure in front of the now-cracked dais chair. He was scarred, bleeding, and his head throbbed with pain. A grin found its way to his lips; he hadn't felt this alive since the Crush. He laughed, low at first, but building in pitch. After a moment, he called out to the cavernous heights of the room.

"Couldn't leave Tuchanka without a little parting blood, could I?" No response came, and Wrex crossed back over to Jrath, leaning down to check on him. Or at least, he went through the motions of checking on him. He listened, intently, past the sound of the blood pumping through his head, past the harshness of his breathing, he listened. He heard the fizzle just before it came, and he spun in place, reaching up and closing with both hands on the arm that held the omni-blade. The tactical cloak dispersed, and the human immediately threw his body weight mid-jump to swing around Wrex's back. Wrex, however, had other plans. He roared, throwing all his strength forward, and pulling the arm with him. The human's momentum was halted immediately with a sickening _snap_ , and then his body followed the new path Wrex had given it, slamming down mercilessly into the floor. Wrex twisted the arm again for good measure, snapping another few bones before dropping it unceremoniously to the floor.

"Did Cerberus tell you it would be easy, taking me down?!" he roared at the now-prone human as he walked around him, thinking of how best to kill this insect. "Did they make you think you could stop what hundreds of krogan haven't been able to?!" He finished one lap around his fallen foe, stomping down harshly on the human's mangled arm as he did.

The human roared in pain, reaching around and grabbing a grenade with his good arm before hurling it up at Wrex. The krogan pushed it with his biotics, sending it hurtling back up onto the dais, where it slammed into the chair and reduced it to rubble. Wrex saw the damage and rushed the human, who had scrambled to his feet and was attempting to retreat. Just as he caught up, the human turned and swung with his good arm, small blades in his armor's wrist piece extending and slashing across Wrex's left eye. Half of the world winked out in an instant, and the socket burned with some chemical that must have coated the blade. Wrex roared in pain, and slowed just enough to allow the human to dart into an alcove and climb, one-armed, into the structural supports above the throne. Wrex pulled out his shotgun, firing blindly into the black above.

"These are _my_ people! This is _my_ destiny! You tell Cerberus they can take it from me when they can send more than a sick varren to challenge me!" Silence and darkness replied, and he collapsed the shotgun, placing it back in its holster at the small of his back. He growled at the continued pain in his eye, and returned to Jrath, who was just beginning to climb to his feet of his own accord.

"What...?" he mumbled, the forthcoming question silence when he laid eyes on Wrex's face.

"You should see the other guy," Wrex grumbled as he passed his closest adviser. He grabbed Jrath's water canteen from his belt as he passed, opening the top and dousing his burning eye. The sensation dissipated, but the damage seemed permanent, or at the very least long-term. He growled again in frustration before turning and tossing the canteen back to Jrath. "Now come on, we've got a party to attend."

* * *

"Lift systems still online _now_ , cannot ensure they will hold!" Mordin yelled at Garrus with a frantic pace as John entered the tower.

"Who gives a damn about the lifts, Mordin?! You're telling us you have to stay up there while Maelon's saying the place is about to blow. There has to be another site!"

"No other site! No other option!" Mordin shot back.

"Hey!" John yelled, earned their attention. "What's the problem? We didn't drive out here so you two could fight like teenagers."

Maelon approached him. "Shepard, the cure is ready for dispersal, all we need to do is take the lift up and plug it into the atmospheric projector."

"Right," Garrus continued, "except the part he's not telling you is that the Cerberus shelling has damaged the system core. It has to be manually initiated, from the control room at the top."

"Alright, how long can the tower hold on?" John asked as another explosion rocked the tower above them.

"Best estimates are ten minutes tops," Garrus replied, pointing to a command console glowing with red alerts and damage reports. "And that gets shorter with each rocket that hits."

"And how long does the dispersal process take?" John looked to Maelon. The salarian shifted nervously.

"About ten minutes," he replied quietly.

John turned to Mordin, shooting him a stern look. "Mordin..." he began.

"No time to argue! Need to disperse cure now or krogan restoration lost forever!" Mordin yelled, crossing to the lift. Above them, the sound of explosions rocked the superstructure of the tower. John chased after him, catching his arm by the entrance to the lift.

"Mordin you don't have to...we can...we can find another way."

The salarian turned, smiling slightly at John. After a moment, he placed a hand on top of John's. "Normandy has its job; I have mine. Want to do this, Shepard." He took a sharp breath. "Need to do this." John stared into his friend's eyes before he stepped forward into the lift, turning back to face John as the doors closed.

"Mordin," John called out at last. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," the salarian replied. "Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong." He paused for a moment as the lift slowly began to crawl upwards. "Watch Maelon for me; good kid, needs guiding hand." John nodded, and Mordin held his gaze for a moment before looking upward as the elevator rushed skyward.

John stared after the retreating elevator for a long moment before turning and rushing past the still-blaring console. "Come on," he called out to the others, "we're not giving up on him yet." Garrus and Maelon moved to follow, and the trio soon passed back out the main door into the glaring sunlight. Across the horizon, the sun was beginning to recede towards the surface, casting the battlefield in a harsh orange light. Two of the Atlas mechs lay in ruin, but Grunt's forces had been heavily thinned out. John rushed forward, hammering into the nearest one with his rifle, when Mordin's voice entered into his comm piece.

" _Beginning dispersal protocol, genophage cure loading into activation system."_ Explosions sounded out over the comm channel, and John gritted his teeth. The krogan all attempted to draw the Atlas's fire, but the mechs focused on the top of the tower, hammering it with rocket after rocket. An explosion jettisoned out of the side of the tower, and a huge panel came crashing down to the ground. John rushed to shove Maelon out of the way, tumbling to the sand after him as the metal plate struck the ground. His leg ached, but he shook it off, and his gaze fell on a group of fallen Cerberus soldiers in the distance. He saw the bodies torn apart by rachni mandibles...and the rocket launcher that had sent their rover flipping earlier. He scrambled to his feet, rushing across the sand and grabbing the weapon. In one fluid motion, he turned, planted a knee in the sand, aimed at one of the mechs, and fired. Time seemed to crawl as the rocket traced a wavering path through the air and slammed into to mech, pushing it back and exploding into a cloud of flame and smoke. When the cloud cleared away, only the charred remnant remained. The krogan roared and moved their attention to the final mech as the STG tower erupted spurts of flame and clouds of thick black smoke.

" _Calcu-ing... pay-l-d tra- -tory,"_ Mordin's voice cut in and out with the explosions sounding out behind him. " _Lau- c- p-ge!"_

The top of the tower opened like a blooming flower, and after a moment it launched a series of bursts into the atmosphere. "Mordin!" John called out over the comm. "Package away, get the fuck back down h-"

John's train of thought was cut off as the last Cerberus mech rushed straight for the tower, a klaxon blaring out from it's on-board systems. The sound rippled out and echoed across the plain, and John swung the rocket launcher around to attempt to stop the inevitable. He gritted his teeth as he led the target, pulling the trigger and sending a rocket screaming across the open space between them. He had moved a second too late, though, and the mech collided with the base of the tower just before it self-destructed in a massive explosion. The krogan nearby were hurled backwards, and those in cover paused their hail of gunfire to simply stare as the massive mushroom cloud almost totally engulfed the tower.

"Mordin!" John called into his comm channel. "Mordin, talk to me!"

The crackling of fires all across the tower were the only sound for a long moment, and then the creaking of metal began to ring out as the top part of the tower began to bend in on itself. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, the top fell inward, and the entire tower collapsed into the base structure, jettisoning a mixture of dust, sand, and metal bits in all directions. John ducked down behind a nearby boulder, pulling Maelon down with him, and when it all settled, he stepped back out into the quickly-fading daylight. The tower lay in ruins, a heap of twisted metal and broken stone. John rushed forward, and ignored Garrus shouting for him, but just as he approached the remains of the staircase, a second explosion threw him backward as the stations core overloaded, igniting the whole wreckage in fire. John stared for a long moment into the fire, remembering Jacob, Samara, and now Mordin; people who had given everything to ensure he succeeded, and then squeezed his eyes shut in anger.

" _Shepard,"_ the deep krogan voice filtered into his comm system, " _Shepard are you receiving?"_

John got to his feet, slightly limping back over towards Grunt and Aralakh Company. "Yea, Wrex, I've got you."

" _Good. Whatever that little pyjak did out there, it's working. Wouldn't believe it if I weren't here seeing it with my own eyes, but it's raining over the hold."_ he paused for a moment, talking with someone else on his end. " _I've got your people sheltered inside, and the whole clan is out there soaking it up. Tell that bastard we're having the biggest celebration these krogan have ever seen tonight, and it's all on him."_

"Wrex..." John began, and trailed off. Luckily, thankfully, his friend understood the unspoken message.

" _Ah...well, it'll be a different kind of celebration, then."_ Wrex paused for a long moment. " _Are Grunt and Aralakh still alive?"_

"Yea," John replied, nodding as he approached Grunt. The krogan returned the gesture as he helped an injured comrade to his feet. "We were able to get here in time to assist. It was Cerberus, Wrex."

" _Yea, I know,"_ the krogan replied. John stared at his omni-tool confused for a moment.

"How did they know what we were up to?"

" _Not sure,"_ Wrex replied, " _and it doesn't matter. We won; they lost."_

"We lost too, Wrex," John reminded him. "Pretty heavily." His eyes moved back up to the still-roaring blaze in the ruins of the tower, and he shook his head.

" _I know, Shepard. Get a ride back here with Aralakh; I want to make sure they get this cure too. Then we'll remember Mordin in the only good way. The krogan way."_

"Which means?" John replied.

" _We'll avenge him."  
_

* * *

The lights of a hundred individual fires danced in John's vision as he stood on the gentle slope of a hill outside Urdnot Hold. He looked across them in silence as the sounds of krogan celebrating and loud rhythmic music rushed up the hill to meet him. Below him, thousands of krogan celebrated together the end of their affliction, their punishment for the actions of their ancestors centuries ago. He thought about the morality of the genophage, the pain it had inflicted, and the salarian who had sacrificed everything to reverse it. He closed his eyes not for the first time in these few minutes he'd stood out here alone. He hadn't told Tali he'd wanted time to deal with Mordin's death, but she'd seemed to understand anyway, giving him his space while she stayed with Garrus. John sighed, flexing his calf around the wound he'd taken; it held tight. He nodded appreciatively. Better than the alternative, he thought.

The rachni had been unexpected to say the least. After the tower had come down, John had expected a tense standoff with the insects and the krogan, but the exact opposite had happened. As soon as the tower had come down, they had disappeared back beneath the Tuchankan sands, wordlessly departing from those they had just given dozens of their own to save. John had looked for a moving corpse, closed his eyes and just listened, anything to make contact, but the rachni didn't seem interested in communicating; at least not right now. Regardless, they had saved the day, and Aralakh Company had made no secret of it in their reports to Wrex upon their return. To hear them tell it, the rachni had been just as bold as the krogan, and that was no small compliment between the two centuries-old enemies. They had all returned. Well, _almost_ all of them, John thought to himself as he watched the fires burn. He shook his head again, replaying the entire day in his mind and trying to find a way it could have gone better; a way he could have spared his friend the death he hadn't deserved. He had nothing, and that was more frustrating than if he'd realized there had been a way. The futility of it all was maddening.

"Shepard," Grunt's voice called out as he stepped up next to John. For a massive krogan, John had barely heard him approach. "How you holding up?"

John opened his eyes to look at Grunt with a broken smile. "I'll be alright. You?"

"Huh," Grunt grumbled. "Can't say I ever thought a salarian would be the one to reverse the genophage, or that the rachni would turn up to save _our_ asses. After all that shit we went through together, I guess it had to be Mordin, didn't it?"

John nodded somberly, remembering his friend's final words. "Yea, I suppose it did." He took a pull of the drink he held in his hand and winced at its bitter taste. It seemed like a krogan attempt at human beer, but it didn't quite go to plan. Still, the krogan who had handed the cup to Commander Shepard had been just so proud to do so that John couldn't have turned him down. Hell, when he'd taken the cup the krogan had beamed a smile he didn't think they were capable of making. "I just hope the krogan can do something big with the new start he's given them."

"Oh we're going big, alright," Grunt replied with a light chuckle. "But that's tomorrow's fight. Tonight is about remembering the dead."

John cocked an eyebrow. "Seems like just a regular party down there."

Grunt chuckled again. "How do you think we honor krogan who die in the best possible way?"

John nodded. "Fair enough."

Grunt stared out at the fires with him for a moment, then spoke in a softer, more reverent tone. "Today was special though, special days call for special celebrations." He reached a hand up, pointing out across the field. John followed his finger and saw Wrex walking with Shaman. His old friend walked slightly more carefully than usual, and his face was scarred; a parting gift from the would-be Cerberus assassin he'd told John about when they'd returned to the hold. Their presence was akin to a vacuum consuming a flame; as they walked the crowd parted for them, and loud revelers became hushed whisperers, almost muted in religious piety. The tone seemed to infect the rest of the crowd as well, and in only a few minutes' time, the entire plain had come under a hushed silence, with Wrex and Shaman standing at its center.

"Only seen this once the whole time I've been here," Grunt leaned over to whisper to John. "You want a real experience? Take my advice: For this first one, turn your translator off." John looked over to meet his friend's eyes, expecting a devilish grin. Instead, he saw a deep seriousness that he hadn't come to expect from the krogan. Seeming to understand his confusion, Grunt waved a hand. "If you really want, I'll give you the translation when it's done. But trust me; you're going to want to hear this in the native tongue." John held his friend's gaze for a moment, then reached down to his omni-tool and disabled his translator. Grunt, seeing the motion, simply nodded to him and looked back out towards the gathering of krogan. John followed suit.

Wrex stood tall beside Shaman in the center of the crowd. Shaman held a large, wicked blade above his head, and began to intone.

" _Zur kaara nonn! Ve'ra assk mittol ka ruz!"_

The thunderous stomping of feet sounded like a bomb being dropped, and John started to hear it. His eyes widened as he saw all of the krogan in the valley below stamping their feet in unison, creating a thunderous beat. Then, as one, they cried back to the Shaman.

" ** _Ara koz! Ru'zahn fir ga rozh!"_**

Every now and then, he'd hear a roar or cry of exultation escape someone in the crowd, adding to the primal aspect of the ritual. The stomping beat continued, and it bored into John's chest with every hit as the shaman continued to call out and receive answer from the crowd. He did so a few more times, and at the last response, as the beat intensified to the point where it threatened to break John apart from within his chest, they all stopped, all at once. Silence rushed back into the plains, and the shaman reached above his head, slicing his palm with the wicked blade before reaching down to take a handful of Tuchankan soil into his injured hand. He raised it to the silent crowd and paused for a long moment before calling back in their harsh tongue.

" _Zera kash mer va'an! Kurosh kara! Kurosh eioch! Zurakh eida kashj!"_

The crowd exploded in roars, thousands of krogan in all directions screaming for blood and fury. John took an unconscious step back, tripping and falling onto his backside in the sand. He sat there, transfixed on the roaring krogan in the field below. Shaman stood stoically, his bloodied and dirt-covered fist in the air, for a long moment as his people continued to roar and scream. Then, he hurled his hand downward, throwing the darkened mud in his hand back to the ground. Roars were traded for cheers, and cries of excitement, and almost immediately the drums of celebration began to beat again, krogan drinking, laughing, and talking among themselves as the cool night winds bristled the hair on the back of John's neck. He reached a hand up to rub at the spot slowly, and Grunt plopped down beside him in the sand.

" _Zora fakkrin tira zad, korzada?"_ he asked. John looked at him in a stupor for a moment, then shook the cobwebs out of his head, tapping his omni-tool to turn his translator back on.

"Sorry, what?"

Grunt grinned. "That was some powerful shit, right?"

"Yea..." John breathed, still mesmerized by what he'd witnessed. After a long pause, he spoke again. "What did they say?"

Grunt looked back down into the plain as well, as Wrex and Shaman moved back through the crowd. Krogan all along the way clapped them on the shoulders, offered them drinks, or saluted Wrex as they passed, and Grunt watched for a long moment before replying. "The stomping happens when any important krogan goes down doing something big for our people. Hasn't been used in a long time, as I'm sure you can guess. Haven't exactly been a 'people' for krogan to do something big for."

John nodded. "And the call and response?"

"Shaman told them that the salarians had cursed our people centuries ago, bringing us low with the genophage. Said that the blood never forgets what it's done, and that a salarian was the one who saved them all. Gave his life fighting to free the krogan." He paused again for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "See Shepard, krogan hate salarians. Krogan hate turians. But you know who krogan _love_? War heroes. People who go out fighting, people who give everything they have for something they believe in. It's our way, and it sure as hell was Mordin's way. He and Maelon ended the genophage, and he died doing it; that earns them both incredible respect...basically forever." He chuckled at the thought, then shook his head. "The dirt and blood, that's ritual. A deal made with Tuchanka herself; in this case, that the krogan would take that freedom and earn it, be worthy of it. Usually you see a krogan do that ceremony for the memory of a family member, or a brother in arms. But for a clan Shaman to do it, for our united people's Shaman to do it...he's pretty much speaking for all krogan at that point."

"And binding them into his promise," John said quietly.

Grunt nodded. "Yea. Pretty big deal, that."

"I didn't see anyone complain or try to stop him," John replied.

Grunt chuckled while shaking his head. "Nope, not a single one." He turned to meet John's eyes again. "We know what sacrifice means, Shepard. You and I saw it on the Collector Base, these krogan saw it today with Mordin." He paused for a moment before standing and offering a hand to John, which was accepted. He pulled John up to his feet, then clapped him on the shoulder. "Whatever happens now, we'll earn that sacrifice."

A silence hung between them, and John spoke. "Well, you've gotten a lot more insightful since we parted ways."

Grunt rumbled out a laugh. "Yea, well, comes with finding your place I guess; your purpose."

John nodded to him. "Hey, what was that last line? Everyone seemed to be waiting for it, and they went fucking nuts afterwards."

Grunt chuckled, nodding in understanding. He turned away from John and began walking back down the slope towards the festivities. As he walked, he called back over his shoulder, his voice fading as he retreated. "'The bargain is struck! Children of wrath! Children of ruin! The great battlefield calls!'"


	18. Wings of Wax

****Author's Note****  
Hey all, good to be back writing after finals hiatus. I'm taking a class over   
**the summer, but just the one, so I plan to have more frequent updates. Thanks**   
**to everyone still sticking with the story as I get bombarded by real life!**

**As always, thanks for the reviews, PMs, and comments! See you in the**   
**next chapter!**

* * *

****Chapter 16: Wings of Wax** **

He stared into the wall with a look that, were the laws of physics a little more lax in this specific moment, would have sheared the metal bulkhead in two. The young woman working on attaching the nervous system up-links into the metal casing that now hung loosely from his shoulder worked with an expert precision, her fingers deftly flying over the numerous connections and wires with an almost practiced alacrity. Still, he noticed with no small amount of irritation, every few minutes she would pause for a moment before performing an action; likely wondering whether or not to inform him that some action she planned on taking would 'hurt a little bit' or 'be a mite uncomfortable'. He tried to ignore it; he obviously wasn't voicing any complaints. She paused again, and he sighed audibly.

"First time putting pieces back on another human?" he asked her nonchalantly. He actually jumped slightly at his voice, and somewhere far in the past there may have been a version of him that would have chuckled at the gesture.

"Ah...no," she fumbled, before composing herself with a small smile, then reaching back towards the wiring. He snatched her hand out of the air, holding it suspended between them, and her eyes shot over to meet his icy gaze.

"Mine either. So just _do it_ already, and stop fidgeting." He held her gaze for another second, then tossed her own hand back at her and resumed his vigil on the wall ahead of him. She continued her work unabated now, and after a few more minutes his omni-tool began to chime, the sound emanating up at him from his band on the white gurney next to him. He closed his eyes in irritation, then reached over and answered it.

" _You were supposed to send me an update two hours ago,_ " the voice on the other end began immediately.

"I was unconscious two hours ago," he replied with no discernible inflection. Simply stating a fact.

" _Yes, and am I correct in believing that wasn't part of the plan either?"_

Kai Leng seethed, letting silence be his response. The former Illusive Man had been insufferable as well, but at the very least he'd been a means to an end. This one, though...the man seemed to just love hearing himself speak. It would be sad if it weren't so irritating, he thought as he let silence hang between them.

" _Regardless,"_ he continued, " _I've gotten the reports. The krogan cured and Urdnot Wrex alive."_ He paused for a moment. _"If I hadn't sent you there myself, I'd honestly question whether you were even_ on _the planet at all."_

"If you're dissatisfied with my methods, I ca-"

_"I_ am _dissatisfied,"_ he interrupted. " _And you're fortunate that the combination of your previous usefulness and my currently-divided attention keeps me from spending long hours thinking about just how dissatisfied I am. I brought you along for your abilities; if they can't get the job done, perhaps it's time to train a new attack dog."_

Kai sat silently, letting dead air fill the line once more. He knew better than to be baited into this game. If the Illusive Man planned on removing him from the game, he'd not have bothered to call him beforehand. Safe in that knowledge, he refused to inflate the man's ego any more than it clearly already was. It was his own subtle knife in the ribs in reply. The man loved watching people fumble over their words and fall apart in front of him; by not giving him a reply, he sapped away any enjoyment the other could be having. After a long moment, a sigh from the other end of the line confirmed his tactic had worked.

" _Finish the operation and report to the Citadel. Credentials are being sent to you on Theta-band frequencies. Preparations there are almost finished."_

"Understood," Kai responded.

" _Take command of the mission there, and get me results. We're backed into a corner here, and you hold the lion's share of the blame. Make this work, or start running. Your failures are grating on me."_

The transmission cut out before another prolonged silence could be sent in response, and Kai reached down, taking the band and flicking his wrist to slip the band over it. He closed his eyes once more, waiting for the doctor to finish. A few hours later, and after refusing the painkillers he was offered more than once, he boarded the nondescript shuttle with his credentials downloaded to his omni-tool. As the ship pulled away from the Cerberus medical station, hanging silently in empty space, he flexed the grip of his new arm. It was stiff, bulky, he would need to adapt to its weight.

Still, he thought as he set the shuttle's autopilot and walked back into the cargo hold to begin practicing with it, it would make a fine parting gift from Cerberus.

* * *

The Illusive Man swiped angrily at his interface terminal, the sound-wave reading of his call with Leng dashing off the left side of the screen. He shook his head in disbelief, then sighed at his own frustration. He'd known when he usurped the mantle that the success or failure of his plans would rest entirely on his own decisions and actions; he'd planned it to be that way. Still, Leng's incompetence got under his skin, and he tried to shake it off.

Burying himself back into his work, he pulled up the secure access ports he had that led into black-level STG comm channels, dumping his manufactured mission report into the channel and letting it wind its way through comm buoys to the Dalatrass on Sur'Kesh. Thinking of the panicked expression on her face when she read and understood the implications of what had happened almost threatened to put a smile on his face, and he re-focused, opening up a frequency that required three separate identification protocols to access.

" _Line secure,"_ came the voice at the other end. " _what can we do for you, sir?"_

"Expedite the research timetable," he replied. "I need results within the next solar week."

The voice on the other end of the line hesitated; a brief moment, but enough to betray uncertainty. " _We will of course do so, but our current procedures haven't generated more than a hypothetical interface solution, sir. We'd need to perform thousands more trials to have any solid degree of certainty."_

"Then perform thousands of trials," the Illusive Man replied. "You're work will both save and elevate the human race; there is no cost too great."

" _Understood, sir,"_ the voice replied with renewed resolve. " _I will of course inform you as soon as we have a lead."_

Kashon reached over and severed the comm channel, staring at his multiple interface screens for another item to work on in the meantime. His head began to ache, and he rolled his eyes in frustration, raising a hand to rub at the scar on the back of his head. He still remembered the accident that had torn open his skull, the rehabilitation after the requisite brain surgery, and the anger he'd felt at being the only member of his family to have survived the blast. They had promised him they would be able to restore full functionality; and yet to those who could answer truthfully, he'd never been the same since. He'd thought it a crutch, a hindrance, when in reality...

He stood suddenly, walking around the edge of his desk and opening the safe in the side of his wall. He reached in and retrieved the small metal circle from within. It was no more than the length of his thumb across, a single connection port. The metal at first felt cool in his hand, but very quickly bordered on searing as he held it fast. He'd had teams scouring wreckage for weeks to discover technology a fraction as intricate as the item he now held, and he stared down into it with a mixture of strong resolve and silent reverence. He would make it function as he saw fit; he had to. He would rise to lead the fight against the Reaper threat. He would prove humanity's rightful dominance over the galaxy.

His weakness would become humanity's greatest strength.

* * *

"I'm just saying, they look like giant floating scrap heaps." Joker's hands tapped away at the orange haptic interface of his console as he spoke. "I mean, give me a ton of metal, a couple donated drive cores, and a team of krogan happy to work for a month straight and I'd probably end up making something worse."

" _Definitely_ end up making something worse," Lia added in with a quiet chuckle. Joker shot her a feigned-hurt look, then shook it off.

"But they don't look pretty, is all."

John shook his head, the smile creeping its way onto his face despite his dour mood. Joker had a way of doing that, he supposed, and he was incredibly thankful for it at times. Not that he'd ever say it out loud; he couldn't even imagine the ego boost that would give his pilot. "They can't all be our Normandy, pal."

Joker shrugged. "Yea, you're right about that. Have I told you about the leather seats?"

"Many times..." John replied with a sigh as he continued to stare out the front viewport. In front of the Normandy, the four unbelievably large vessels broke the Tuchankan atmosphere and entered into the inky black of the space between worlds. John looked out at this immense occasion, the first major foray back into space for Wrex's people in centuries, and still he could only picture Mordin's face as he rode that elevator up into the heart of the burning tower. He crossed his arms in front of him, a scowl settling in subconsciously on his face. Maelon had hardly been an emotional wreck afterward, although John supposed he could forgive the salarian that much; Mordin had only just come back into the kid's life after their work on the genophage together. To be honest, John hadn't known Mordin that much longer, but that time had been filled to the brim with constant pressure and the threat of death around every corner. Those situations tended to galvanize the bond between men and women, regardless of species, and though he wouldn't show it for fear of demoralizing his crew, he was feeling deeply the loss of his friend.

" _Shepard,"_ Wrex's voice filtered in through the bridge's comm systems, " _to be honest I wasn't sure we were going to keep all four ships in the leaving."_

John chuckled to picture Urdnot Wrex in command of a small fleet of starships. "Still cashing in that lucky break, it would seem."

Wrex's deep laugh boomed through. " _Yea, it'll run out eventually though. Then we'll have to rely on guns and explosives."_

"Well that's fine, you'll be right in your element." He paused for a brief moment, then continued. "How's the eye?"

" _Pah...that skinny runt hit me softer than the bed you sleep on. Besides, still have one. All I need."_

John shook his head again, he couldn't help but admire the tough old bastard. "You all going to make it to Palaven?"

" _Yea,"_ came the reply. " _My techs tell me we've got enough juice in each ship for a jump through the relay. After that...well let's just hope the turians still have some spare ships for us. These hunks of junk were always meant to be one-way tickets."_

"I'll go check with Garrus now, and I'll have him send your approach vectors to the turians. They should be able to give you enough covering fire to get to the surface. After that, though..."

" _The real fun starts,"_ Wrex growled back. " _We're ready, Shepard. You helped bring us together, Mordin stripped us of our greatest fear. Long as we make planetfall, the Reapers'll wish Cerberus had been able to seal the deal back on Tuchanka. Promise you that."_

John nodded. "Stay safe out there, Wrex."

The krogan laughed again. " _That's no way to have a good time. But yea, you too, Shepard."_

The comm channel cut out, and John watched for another few minutes as the four massive ships aligned themselves in the direction of the relay and jumped to FTL. After a long moment of staring out into the black, he spoke up again. "Alright, that's that."

"He said, after just performing a miracle," Joker quipped, still tapping away at the controls.

"The real miracle will be saving Palaven." He was quiet for another moment, thinking of the war to come once the krogan arrived. "Is Maelon set up?"

"Yea, last I heard he was in the med bay helping Chakwas," his pilot replied. "Seems to be settling in. Nice of you to give him a lift."

John shrugged. "We're probably headed back to the Citadel next anyway; Sparatus will want to hear that he's gotten the forces Palaven needs, and hopefully we can bring Tevos and Valern around."

"Well if anyone can do it, it's you, you silver-tongued devil."

John chuckled despite himself. "Careful, Joker. I'll think you're trying to compliment me."

"Oh man, wouldn't want that," his pilot shot back. "Can confirm, sir. No one likes you around here, sir. Go on and get your hard-ass out of here."

John raised an eyebrow, waiting for a minute. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lia's eyes wide open and fixed on Joker. "Uh...'sir'?" he finished meekly.

"There it is," John called out, clapping the man on the shoulder. He turned and walked down the long hallway, away from the bridge, and Lia's loud chiding of Joker's lack of respect, and towards the swirling galaxy map in the center of the CIC. He let his eyes linger on it as he passed through to the lift; dozens of systems, all under Reaper assault, and one ship bridging the gap between salvation and defeat. It threatened to make his head spin again, and he pushed the thought away, stepping into the lift and heading down to see Garrus. The deck was quiet, and the only two sources of light were the night-shift track lighting in the floorboards, and the soft white glow from the med bay. He looked through the window as he passed, seeing Chakwas pointing out something on a datapad held by Maelon. Neither noticed him, and he kept right on until he reached the doors to the battery. As he reached out to touch the console, he could hear a pair of muffled voices beyond.

" _\- saw what it was like back there. There isn't going to be anything_ easy _about this."_

_"I know that. I'm just...concerned. He brought the quarians and geth around, that's miracle enough in my book. But I've been in the trenches in a long, drawn-out fight. I've seen what it does to people,_ soreka. _"_

_"Which is why we don't let him be alone in this,"_ the voice that he could now distinctly tell belonged to Kasumi replied. _"You think being Imperator is the biggest part you have to play in this? It isn't. Not by a long shot."_ She paused a moment before speaking again, in which time all the heat had fallen out of her voice. It was silk now, comforting and calm. " _Whether or not you'd ever admit it, you and Tali are the closest friends he has out on that field. We both know she's going to rise to the occasion, but he needs you too, Garrus."_

A long silence followed, and John reached out to the access panel again, hesitating just before activating it. He stared into its green interface for a long moment, then pulled his hand back and walked back down the long corridor. A storm of emotions surged within him as he crossed the deck in what seemed to him to be slow motion. He wanted to scream, to cry, to rage, all at once. He hated that they put everything on his shoulders, but at the same time craved the burden; knowing he was the only one who could truly see it through. His mind raced, and he passed by the med bay again, oblivious to the wave of thanks that Maelon sent his way through the glass window. The salarian seemed distraught at first, but when his human counterpart placed a hand on his shoulder with a warm smile, he shrugged and returned to his duties.

John stepped into the lift, fuming, and looked around as the doors closed. He leaned his head back against the wall of the small enclosure and slid down until he was seated with his knees arched in front of him. He listened to the sound of his own breathing, letting anger roil over the surface of his skin. After a few minutes, the lift moved of it's own accord, heading down, and when the doors opened, he tilted his head forward and opened his eyes to see her standing there. She held a datapad in one hand, the other perched above it frozen, as if she'd been typing into it when the sight of him stopped her. His eyes met hers, and for a moment he simply looked at her, projecting all the pain he'd been carrying around across the short space between them. He wanted her help. He wanted her to stay away. He wanted everything and nothing all at once.

Without a word, she stepped into the lift, stowed the datapad behind her back, tapped the key for Deck One, and slid down the wall to sit beside him. He looked up into the ceiling like a drowning man seeking the sun through the refraction of the waves above his head, and he could feel her eyes on him as the lift moved back upwards. Thoughts screamed around his head, and he wasn't sure which would make things better and which would make them worse. He closed his eyes tightly against them, and just grabbed one at random, letting it slip from between his lips before he could think.

"It's too much," he spoke into the lift they shared.

"I know," she whispered back to him, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. Thoughts of Mordin, of Jacob and Samara, of Earth, of his team on Akuze and his family on Mindoir all came rushing forward at once. He felt the wetness welling up behind his eyes and tried to shove it away, but it would not be deterred, and a small stream cascaded down the side of his face.

"I...I can't..." he breathed. "I just...god, I just _can't_." He hung his head, all confidence beaten out of him, and her hand tightened on his knee.

"I know," she whispered again, and shame surged through him. He felt powerless, weak, undeserving of her. He shook his head, then raised it to meet her gaze; his red, bloodshot eyes begging for mercy from her perfect glowing white ones. She squeezed his knee as she continued. "But _we_ can." He stared into her eyes, realizing her meaning and feeling the shame, anger, and pain being pushed back within him. Slowly but surely the love and support she expressed shoved everything that crippled him away, and he continued to stare into her eyes as the lift doors opened on Deck One. She stood slowly, still holding his gaze, and pulled him to his feet, leading him into the dark quarters they shared together. The soft blue glow of the fish tank illuminated their steps as she led him to the edge of the bed. She reached down, slipping the band of his omni-tool off of his wrist and tossing it onto the table by the couches. She gently took the bottom of his shirt in her hands and lifted it up, and he raised his arms to let it slide over his head. She folded it delicately and placed it on the back of the nearby desk chair. She crossed back over to him, taking his hand and pulling him onto their bed. He followed willingly, numb from the storm he'd just endured, and she pulled him close to her.

He rested his forehead on her chest, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. His mind floated, and somewhere far off in the distance he could hear a soft _click_ and the rustling of cloth before he felt the cool skin of her hand on his back. She rubbed up and down his spine in long, slow motions, and he felt the worry, and pain, and dread seep out of him as she did. Before long, he let his mind slip into the blackness behind his eyes, and sleep overtook him.

Tali looked down at him with a warmth and love that she never imagined she'd feel for anyone. Her brow furrowed as she thought of the burden he carried, and how quickly it had been able to attack him. He was broken, and she would mend the pieces, make him whole again. Just as she knew he would do for her; _had_ done for her already. She gave him a few more long strokes across his back to make sure he'd fallen asleep, then reached up to mute her external sound before calling Garrus's omni-tool from her helmet. She waited only a second.

" _Hey, what's up?"_ he replied.

"Hey. Can you do me a favor and contact the Primarch; let him know that Wrex and the others are on their way?"

" _Uh, yea, sure I can do that. Thought Shepard said he was going to."_

"He...can't right now."

Garrus paused. " _Something wrong?"_

"He'll be fine," she replied confidently. "But he needs to sleep for the moment. _Saera_ 's orders."

The turian chuckled on the other end of the line. " _Woah, authority from the highest office, huh?"_

She smiled, but it faded quickly as she looked down at him. "He...He needs us, Garrus. If he has any chance of stopping this, of _surviving_ it, he needs us both."

_"Don't worry_ ," Garrus replied quietly after a long pause. " _We've got his back."_

* * *

_She hung in the night sky, stars littering the inky black above and around her. She saw them again; the three tall obelisks seeming at once to rise from and be part of the vast ocean ahead of her. Vibration pulsed through her skull, insistent but not painful, and she closed her eyes to feel it flow through her. When she opened them again a moment later, she stood once more on the beach, the tide rolling in and lapping at her feet. She looked down after feeling the freezing water cascade against her toes, and recoiled as she saw her own soft gray skin. Her panicked eyes raced across the rest of her naked form, and she covered herself instinctively, holding her breath despite knowing it was far too late. She searched around frantically for something, anything to help her, when a low rumble rushed across the night air towards her. It slammed into her ear drums, and she collapsed to her knees, removing her hands from her body to cover her ears. Her eyes snapped back out over the ocean, and an icy pit formed in her stomach as she saw the central tower rising out of the water, growing wider at its base, and eventually revealing a massive pair of glowing blue eyes._

_"Re...reap..." fear stifled her words, and she couldn't have more than whispered them, but the thing replied as if she'd screamed it across the mile gap between them._

_"_ **Despoina** _," it called out with another rumble, and the word seemed to have been whispered directly into her ear. She cried out in pain at the thunderous noise, then summoned up every ounce of courage she had to stand and glare at it._

_"What is that? What is Despoina?" Silence hung between them, though the rumble faded away. For a long moment it simply hung there, staring at her across the water. "What is it?!" she screamed at it in frustration._

_"Truth," a voice behind her whispered, and she jumped in fear, spinning in place to attack._

Lia'Vael started awake with a fright, lashing out and slamming her balled fist into the bulkhead against which sat the bed she shared with Jeff. Pain surged through her hand, and she cursed quietly in Khellish, wringing it softly with her other hand to rub away the ache. She closed her eyes in frustration; her dreams were getting worse, and at the worst possible time. She checked her suit's status monitors out of habit and her eyes widened when they told her she was bleeding from her left ear. Trembling, she prompted the system to send medi-gel to the site, and get diagnostics back on her hearing. They all came back positive, with no explanation for the blood. She closed her eyes again, breathing deeply a few times to center herself, before remembering the man sleeping next to her. "Sorry!" she whispered, reaching over to touch Jeff's arm, but finding nothing. She climbed from their bunk and opened the door to Deck Three, looking across to see the lights in the med bay still on. She crossed the deck quietly, though there was no real reason to, and opened the door just as Jeff heaved again, emptying his stomach into one of the scrub sinks. Beside him, Lia recognized the new salarian they'd picked up on Tuchanka, Maelon she'd heard him called, patting the human's back reassuringly.

"There you go," he said softly. "Perfectly normal reaction."

Jeff choked out a short laugh. "Yea, what else can you expect when you take meds meant for another species, right?" Maelon chuckled lightly, turning to grab a towel for him when he saw Lia in the doorway.

"Oh," he fumbled. "Ah, I think you have a visitor."

Jeff turned from the sink, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bloodshot from the exertion, and he managed a half-hearted wave. "Oh hey, you," he called out, "come to see me at my best, huh?"

She shook her head, but smiled behind her visor, and crossed to him. To his credit, Maelon held the towel out for her, and she accepted it with a warm nod, which he returned before crossing the room to look over a medical terminal. She rubbed Jeff's back and offered him the towel, but he pushed it away.

"Oh, it's not done yet, sweetheart. I can always tell when it-" he whipped his head back around to the sink just in time to avoid missing it entirely as his stomach seized once more. After what seemed like forever, he leaned all his weight against the sink, heaving breaths, and took the towel from her. "Ok..." he panted, "that...should be it..."

At the terminal, Maelon shook his head. "I just don't understand it," he said aloud, though whether the statement was directed at the pair of them or to himself, Lia wasn't sure. "I mean, I can see the thinking, the reasoning, behind the treatment. But how he even thought to use it in the first place...I'm just baffled."

Joker laughed as he wiped his mouth and reached for a nearby bottle of water. "Yea, that makes two of us, pal." he leaned back against the counter, looking up to the ceiling and closing his eyes as his stomach gurgled and settled. "Seems to be working, at least. Did a couple push-ups for the first time in about twenty years the other day, felt pretty good to me."

"Oh, I've no doubt it's working," Maelon replied without looking at them. "The healing agents are absorbed almost immediately; they're meant for a stronger immune system than yours, so they need to be potent. By the time the side effect-"

"The incredibly painful puking," Jeff corrected him.

"Ah...yes. That. By the time that kicks in, the agent has already been absorbed. You're not regurgitating it, but I don't really see a way to cut the side effect, either." He turned back around then, and offered a sympathetic frown to the human.

Jeff chuckled. "Ah good old Mordin; he always did like watching me squirm."

A small smile crept its way onto Maelon's face, and he reached over to a datapad he'd set on the nearby counter. He tapped and flicked at it as he crossed to them, and then stood between them, holding it up for them both to see. On the screen was a still-shot of a lab full of salarians. Some of them worked at medical terminals, one seemed to be eating a meal in a nearby break room, and a few gathered in a small clump around a large holographic interface with a genome structure hanging in blue wireframe above their heads. No one seemed to be looking at, or aware of, the one taking the picture. "This was our team, working on the first iteration of the genophage." He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in memory, then continued. "A terrible decision to create it, but one we thought was necessary at the time. Regardless, it was...an incredible team to work with."

"I saw Mordin dialed up to eleven on a couple rare occasions; can't imagine what it would be like for him to be that way all the time," Jeff thought aloud as he took another swig from the water bottle. Maelon chuckled.

"Oh yes, he was quite the force to be reckoned with." He reached out and tapped one of the salarians at the wireframe model. "He was younger then, even more vibrant than he is...ah...was, now, if you can believe it. But he took me under his wing. It was a break-neck pace to learn a daunting amount of things, but it was exhilarating. Everything felt supremely important, nothing felt contrived or superfluous. Every day was filled with breakthroughs and hard research."

"Sounds like a scientist's paradise," Lia added in, and Maelon nodded silently.

"And now he's gone," he whispered after a long moment. "Killed trying to undo everything we all did in that room together." He shook his head. "It all seems so...wasteful."

Jeff clapped him on the back. "He died saving an entire species from slow extinction, Maelon. And he was convinced in the end that what he was doing was right, that it was worth sacrificing himself for. I think Mordin Solus would be the first to tell you that trading one life for billions is anything but wasteful."

The salarian nodded slowly, and stared at the photo for a long moment before swiping it away, back into data storage. "Want to see something funny?" he asked quietly. Lia looked over to Jeff, who was meeting her eyes with a confused expression. Maelon had asked if they'd wanted to see something funny, but with zero mirth in his voice, and neither of them were sure what the right answer was.

"Sure," she replied, putting another reassuring hand on his back.

Maelon flicked through another couple pages of data before settling on a screen with an image of a capsule payload and line after line of data. "It's my trajectory calculations for the genophage cure. I had them ready to go just in case...in case I needed to send it off manually."

"Shit, you really _were_ ready to die out there."

"I had considered the possibility, yes," he replied. "But look at this: my formula for flight path correction to land the payload squarely over Tuchanka Hold." He swiped again, and the formula expanded, filling the screen. "I was looking over these calculations after we left Tuchanka, and found...an error. My calculations...were incorrect. If I'd been the one to fire the payload, it would have landed half a mile to the east."

Jeff looked to Lia again, and shook his head in silent confusion before speaking. "I...don't understand why that's funny," he said cautiously.

Maelon chuckled a bit, reaching up to wipe a tear away from his eye. "In the end, it really did have to be him. I'd have gotten it wrong." He looked at each of them in turn, nodded, and left the med bay without a word, passing over to the lift. The doors closed, and Lia let out a heavy sigh she didn't know she'd been holding.

" _Keelah_ , can you imagine?"

Jeff shook his head. "No. No I cannot. I don't even want to _imagine_ the look on Wrex's face if that plan went wrong." He paused for a moment, thinking about the hypothetical implications, and shuddered. He looked back up to meet her eyes. "Did I wake you up when I left?"

"No," she replied. "I had...ah..."

"You were having nightmares again," he finished for her. "Same ones? Purple sand? Towers in the water?"

She nodded half-heartedly. "Yea, though...I don't think they're just towers. One of them looked like a...well, like a Reaper, almost."

"Come again?" he replied, his eyes widening.

"I mean, it was hard to tell and all...these are just dreams, Jeff. I mean they're probably not even real and..." she trailed off when his eyes narrowed. "What?"

He stepped closer, his eyes boring into hers for a few seconds. "I've spent my entire life having people talking about me behind my back. You live that long with it, and you get _real_ good at sensing when someone's not telling you the full story."

She looked away and shifted uncomfortably. "I...got hurt in the dream. A really loud noise. I covered my ears but...it still hurt."

"Yea, pretty sure I know the exact noise you're talking about," he replied sternly.

"No, it wasn't...I mean it was... _lower_ , I guess. I can't really describe it." She paused for a moment. "When I woke up...my suit told me I was bleeding from one of my ears. No trauma source found."

"Ok," he replied, picking up the water bottle and heading for the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Where we should have gone weeks ago when this all started," he replied, turning and waving her to come with him. "We need to tell Shepard about this."

"So he can do what?" she said, a bit too aggressively, "tell me to stop having bad dreams? Be constantly concerned that I'll be some Reaper puppet again at any given moment?" She paused again, looking away. "Wonder if saving my life was a mistake?"

"Hey, woah," he replied, crossing back over to her. "Don't talk like that. Saving you saved us both, and he knows that. Plus he's really not the 'abandon his crew to save his own ass' kinda guy. I mean you didn't see it, but Samara had to literally _throw_ him across a..." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. What's important is that you know that this is your home. You're not going anywhere, and neither am I; doesn't matter what scars you've got from that fight, we'll overcome them." He took her hand, and she allowed herself to meet his eyes again, nodding softly. "I just...want his opinion on this. I mean you'd be hard-pressed to find a more seasoned Reaper expert in the galaxy, and he's already right here on the ship, is all."

"I understand, Jeff. But he has enough on his plate right now, and I can handle this. Let's just...pick a more opportune time to bring it up, ok?"

His mouth twisted up in a scowl, but after a long moment he sighed. "Alright, your call. I just want you to feel better."

She squeezed his hand, then stepped closer to him and placed her other hand on his chest. "I will. And you'll play no small part in it."

He chuckled, and covered her hand with his own. "So...back to bed, then? Probably won't have much longer before Shepard fills up the crew's quarters again."

"Yeah. Let's...enjoy the luxury...as long as we can."

He laughed, leading her out the door of the med bay, across the deck, and back to their room. It wouldn't be just theirs much longer, but until that day came, she was happy to just have a small corner of the ship to themselves.

* * *

" _I'd recommend increasing the amount of long-range patrol groups we have in the immediate vicinity. We've been inexplicably spared for the moment, but reports from all corners of the galaxy are suggesting the Reapers are combing the galaxy. Also...we should consider deploying our forces to aid fellow Council species."_

Dalatrass Linron sat neatly in her high-backed chair, listening to the STG commander report in from beyond Sur'Kesh's atmosphere. She only half-way listened, though, as the large majority of her attention was focused on the recessed back wall of her chambers, and the strange metal sculpture within its housing. It pulsed quietly, a light that soothed her even if previously she might have thought it to be a sickening color. She drank in its subtle perfection as the salarian on the other end of her comm line droned on. More patrols? Aiding other races? They had no need of these things. Her people were confused at the lack of Reaper attacks on Sur'Kesh, but she knew the truth. The great machines would wash clean the galaxy as it was, and then elevate the salarians to become their stewards; so the relic had whispered to her, so she knew to be truth. The line went quiet, and she broke her gaze away from the shapely stone to refocus it on her comm channel.

"What did you ask?" she replied tersely.

" _Ah...I had asked for your authorization to take those actions we discussed,_ " he replied.

"Authorization denied," she replied immediately. "What we have now is already excessive, if you ask me. We have nothing to fear from the Reapers, and we must put salarian lives first, Captain."

" _But ma'am, they're tearing apa-"_

"And you would do well to remember your station, Captain," she cut him off abrasively. The line hung silent for a moment, and then disconnected. She sighed heavily, leaning back into her chair and looking up at the ceiling of her office. It was more difficult than she'd anticipated, being the only one with true knowledge of the glorious future her people were so close to being handed; having to deal with all the fear and... _weakness_ , she thought spitefully. Her people needed to be strong in the face of what must be done. For a station as great as theirs would be in the wake of the Reapers' assault, a sacrifice must always be necessary. A chime came from her door, and she pressed the small switch underneath her desk, watching with a twinge of sadness as the beautiful stone sculpture was covered cleanly by the returning section of her wall. Once it had finished moving, she opened the door.

"Dalatrass," her communications officer addressed her, with a look of pure horror on his face. "We've just received a comm burst on STG channels...you need to see this immediately." She waved him over and he handed her a datapad, standing silently while she opened it and read its contents. As she continued through it, rage and fury swelled within her, and it took every effort to mask them. When she finished, she calmly placed the datapad back on the desk, meeting her subordinate's eyes once again.

"Has this been confirmed?" she asked quietly.

"Y-Yes, Dalatrass. We've reached out and made the relevant inquiries...all the data aligns perfectly, though there are of course no other STG reports on the matter."

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply and waving the officer out. When the door closed behind him, she opened them again, standing silently and turning to look out over her world. If she'd harbored any doubts that her people, even those she trusted above all else, were too weak to be worthy of the masters' designs, they were thoroughly erased. She shook her head silently, a mother disappointed in her wayward children. It seemed she would need to be the hand that dragged her people to greatness. Very well.

After a long moment, she nodded resolutely, returning to her terminal and beginning the process of wartime preparations. The generals of her forces were notified and arrived shortly at her office, where she informed that martial law would be implemented, no exceptions, and the complete lock-down of Sur'Kesh began in earnest with their reluctant but ultimately given consent. When they left, she opened the direct line she held to the Citadel, almost surprised that the connection went through with the galaxy in the state that it was. After a moment, Valern's image appeared above her desk.

" _Dalatrass,"_ he began. " _I've been informed that you're enacting a lock-down of Sur'Kesh?"_

"I am," she replied curtly. "That is my right as leader of our people."

" _With due respect, the consequences of that decision will be disastrous."_ He seemed to look off to the side before continuing. " _Every other race on the Citadel is being slaughtered wholesale by these monsters, and yet the salarian people remain untouched; even our outposts have gone without the Reaper presence. I can't explain why this is happening, the best I can do is offer salarian aid. Now, it seems, you're forbidding me to do that."_

"Yes, I am." His eyes widened in the display, and he waited, clearly expecting more explanation from her. He would get none.

" _Dalatrass, please! This war will consume us all if we do not stand with the oth-"_

"This war," she interrupted, "will consume the _weak_ , Councilor. And in the end, the _strong_ will be rewarded by it. My word is law now, Valern. You have two days to return to Sur'Kesh before the lock-down is complete. Failing that, I'll know with whom you've thrown in your lot."

" _Dalatr-!"_ she severed the communications link and breathed a heavy sigh of satisfaction. Yes. This was truly how the masters envisioned it. Sur'Kesh was subservient to her, and she was subservient to their glorious voice. She composed herself, then locked her door and opened the recessed panel once more. It still sat there, calling to her, warming her in its strange glow. She smiled in its presence, comforted and filled with great purpose, then opened up her terminal, addressing a message to the people of her world. She would need to allay their fears, and prepare them for struggle, for hardship, for greatness.

For salvation.

* * *

"Never fails to impress," John mused as he stepped out onto the walkway from where the Normandy sat docked at the Citadel and looked out over the immense docking bays to either side. Tali nodded as she stepped out beside him. She had told him that she and Garrus had taken care of preparations for their Citadel visit while he slept, and while he was appreciative, he'd seemed...subdued, muted almost, since he'd woken up. He hadn't dreamed, just slept, and while he felt physically refreshed, the yoke of mental weight he seemed to carry on his shoulders had settled right back into place when he'd stood up out of bed. He had resolved to simply never being rid of it; at least not for a long time to come. Garrus stepped out behind him, and he nodded to him. "Figure we've got a couple hours shore leave here. We've got to talk to the Council and find...someone...to help re-stock the ship. I'd prepare to do it ourselves if I'm honest; didn't exactly leave Earth with a full contingent."

"No stranger to heavy lifting here," Garrus quipped back at him, "though Liara's biotics might come in handy. Or just have Vega do it all, that's what we brought him along for, right?"

"Come on, man, you _know_ I'm right here..." James called out as he exited the ship behind the turian. Garrus clapped him on the shoulder, and he walked down past John. "I'll see what I can do about scrounging up some blues to staff the ranks, Commander," he said, pulling on his jacket against the relative chill of the docking bay air. "Been a bare-bones crew so far, gonna need some more hands to get the ship to one hundred percent."

John nodded to him. "Sounds good, thanks Vega. I'll see if I can get Udina to help you out." The man saluted and took off towards the Alliance division on the Citadel. The trio traversed the walkway leading into the Citadel proper, and his heart sank as he passed through throngs of displaced refugees, memorial boards, people reaching out to anyone for information on their missing loved ones.

"Looks bad," John whispered as they continued past.

"Only going to get worse, Shepard," Garrus reminded him. "You do what you can, for as many people as you can, but you can't save everyone."

John set his jaw. His friend was right, he knew it, but that didn't make it sting any less. He tore his eyes away from the scene and they took a skycar together to the diplomatic enclave on the station. As they passed through the main doorway, the human Councilor spotted them and crossed over.

"Shepard," he called out as he approached, "good to see you in one piece." He reached out his hand and John shook it hesitantly; the man was in a far better mood than he'd ever seen him in, and all things considered he hadn't expected it. Udina continued on, either not noticing or not addressing John's confusion. "Comm traffic is a veritable rat's nest, and I wasn't expecting you. Getting reliable intel is...difficult."

"I can imagine," John replied. "Came to speak with Sparatus; we were able to get the krogan in on the plan to help stabilize Palaven. Needed to confirm that he's able to allocate forces to help Earth, and see what the other Council members need. Also..." he trailed off for a moment, "wanted to check up on Kaidan."

"Oh good, I was worried you'd forgotten about me," the man's voice came from behind him. John turned to face the approaching Kaidan Alenko and pulled him in for a tight embrace as he closed. After a moment, they stepped apart.

"Never, Kaidan. How are you holding up?"

"Oh I'm alright," he replied. The left side of his face was still a marring of bruises and minor cuts, and he walked with a slight limp in his left leg, but for the most part, he looked infinitely better than he had back on Mars. "Docs fixed me up and I got a promotion out of the deal, so not too shabby."

"A promotion?"

"Shepard," Udina replied, "meet the only other human Spectre in the galaxy." John turned back to Kaidan, awe playing over his face.

"Well I'll be damned," he chuckled. "Welcome to the team; we're pretty exclusive."

Kaidan laughed, which turned into a slight cough. "Yea, so I hear. At least I'm in illustrious company. Council wants a Spectre on hand to watch their backs while the others are out in the field. Udina put me up for it."

The Councilor waved his hand dismissively. "Alenko was an obvious choice, and the Council has had quite a bit of exposure to his methods over the years. It wasn't a difficult decision for anyone but him." The group laughed quietly, Kaidan included, and John nodded to him once more, proud of his friend, before Udina spoke again. "Anyway, let's get to Sparatus and see what you've been able to do for us, Shepard." Udina led them through the teeming diplomatic enclave, awash with members of every species in various states of unrest and panic as they scurried to keep comm channels open, supply lines intact, anything to help the war effort. Shepard waded through the chaos, and down a few corridors, before their group arrived at Sparatus's office. The doors opened to herald their arrival, and the turian crossed from a large holographic map of Palaven to meet them.

"Shepard. Imperator." He shook John and Garrus's hands, the latter more uncomfortable with the procedure, then gestured to the display. "By the spirits, I don't know how you convinced them to help us, and maybe I don't want to know, but I'm receiving word from command that the krogan are inbound. Lots of them."

"All of them, by my count," John replied. "Minus most of the females and all the non-combatants."

"Most?" Sparatus asked.

John smirked. "The ones that had to be physically forced away from the transport ships to keep a presence on Tuchanka."

The older turian shook his head. "Can't remember a time I heard of that much zeal to join a fight this rough." He paused for a moment, the spoke again, but quieter. "The Primarch is working on a battle plan that will utilize the krogan to the greatest effect. Our scientists are telling us that whatever console you activated down there can be shut off manually, but we'll want to make sure we're ready for the full resurgence of attack once we lower it. I don't think we get a second shot at this." He looked back to the map for a moment, then faced them again. "Still, you've given me more than I asked for, Shepard. And I'm sure you played no small part in it either, Vakarian. I owe you both a debt I know I can't repay."

"Once Palaven is taken care of, you'll have the chance," John replied. "We'll need the turian fleet to aid Thessia, and eventually join with the rest to re-take Earth."

Sparatus nodded. "We'll be there, what's left of us anyway." The Councilor's desk comm line chimed, and he crossed to answer it. "Probably the Primarch, he's been in almost const-" his words were cut off as Councilor Valern's voice emanated from the desk instead.

" _Sparatus, are you with Shepard at the moment?"_

"Present, Councilor," John called out to the open air of the office.

" _Shepard, I have great need of your skills on a...delicate...matter. Is the room secure?"  
_

John looked up to meet Sparatus's gaze, and the turian looked around at those he'd brought along before nodded to him. "It is, Councilor. What's the problem?"

" _Simply put, the Dalatrass has seized control of the power structure on Sur'Kesh and imposed martial law. She's locking down the planet and refusing to send aid to any allies, or even to our own colonies; not that they need it at the moment."_

John raised an eyebrow. "The Reapers still aren't touching salarian space?"

" _No, and before you ask, I don't have an explanation for it. We're not exactly making ourselves scarce in the galactic scene. We've had scouting patrols and long-range probes dispensed from every world with a heavy salarian presence, but none have detected a Reaper assault. Believe me, Shepard, I'm looking for any explanation, but I'm coming up empty."_

John looked over to Garrus, who shrugged and shook his head, then gazed out the large panel window behind the turian Councilor's desk as he thought. It didn't make any sense. The Reapers had ample time to wipe out the galaxy, but why wait? Why ignore an entire advanced race when that could give them an opportunity to form a retaliation? "Have the salarians been working on any Reaper technology, or possible countermeasures to indoctrination?" There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Valern replied.

" _Not that I'm aware of, although even I don't have access to all of the STG's mission reports. Still, with a high degree of confidence, I can say we haven't been. The Dalatrass has been spending the last few months siphoning funds away from technology and research development; anyone looking into that kind of work wouldn't even have the money to do so."_

"The Dalatrass's influence again," John mumbled. Martial law, a planet-wide lock-down, diverting funds away from possible countermeasure research. She seemed to be taking every move to keep her people in place, like she was waiting for something. He didn't like the implications. "This lock-down she's putting in place, did you hear about it directly from her, or an intermediary?"

_"She...contacted me directly to let me know. I'm not sure what relevance that has, Shepard."_

"Humor me, Councilor," he replied. "When you spoke with her, did she seem herself?"

The salarian Councilor barked a single, mirthless laugh through the channel. " _Hardly. She's always been diplomatic and level-headed. Today, she seemed almost authoritarian."_

"Almost?" Garrus added in. "I'd say she's about as close as you can get."

" _True. Still, she's always been an incredibly responsible leader. The things she said seemed...out of character."_

"What kind of things, Councilor?" John asked. "Anything you can remember in particular?"

Valern paused again, then spoke up. " _I told her that her decision would be disastrous, that we needed to stand with our allies or we would all be destroyed. She replied that the war would kill off the weak, and that afterwards the strong would be rewarded._ "

"Well that's pretty ominous," Garrus mumbled.

"She could just be scared," John contended. "Locking down the planet, hoping to salvage something after the fact?"

" _Perhaps, although she seems to be very assured of how the war will play out, even in the midst of all the chaos. She sent a wide-net message to every salarian on Sur'Kesh. I received a copy as a formality. In it, she's espousing the importance of staying in place and keeping out of the conflict. It says that the reward for salarians everywhere for their loyalty to her will be salvation."_

"That sounds unsettlingly familiar," Tali said quietly.

"Yea, my thoughts exactly," John agreed. "It sounds like she might be playing for the other team. Still, we're not absolutely sure, and we need to be before we move against her. How do you want to play this, Councilor?"

Valern sighed over the comm channel and thought for a moment before replying. " _If you have time, I'd like you to meet up with an STG team at an orbital station above Sur'Kesh. I've sent coordinates to your ship. If anyone can uncover possible Reaper connections, they can. Once we have the proof we need, we can move planetside and stabilize Sur'Kesh._ "

"And if we find nothing?"

" _I...can't believe that could be possible. Whether it's the Reapers or some other driving force, these are not the actions the Dalatrass Linron I know would take. She's compromised somehow, and I won't let my people be sidelined in this war, sitting and waiting for the Reapers to come tear us apart. You're a Spectre, Shepard. Find me answers, by any means necessary."_

"Understood, Councilor. I'll rendezvous with your team as soon as we're off the Citadel. Does anyone have word on Thessia?"

"Tevos was here yesterday," Sparatus spoke up. "She said the invasion is still happening, but they're fighting it back at a deadlock. Seems the Reapers are committing the large majority of their forces on Earth and Palaven."

John nodded. "They'll have to hold on awhile longer; getting the salarians into the fight just became our top priority. We can't have an entire race on the sidelines and still expect to win this thing."

"Agreed," said Sparatus.

" _I also agree,"_ Valern replied. " _And thank you Shepard, please let me know what you find as soon as possible."_ The comm channel disconnected, and John turned to Udina.

"We left Earth in a hurry. One of my crew is looking for some Alliance personnel on-station to help fill the ranks on the Normandy. Any way you could help with that?"

The Councilor nodded. "Of course. I'll forward you the personnel listing on the Citadel. Take whomever you need for your mission, Shepard. We're here to help you succeed." John nodded to the man then headed for the door.

"I'll update you both as soon as I have something."

"Spirits go with you, Shepard," Sparatus called as he left Udina and the turian to speak together. The door closed behind the three of them and he let out a deep sigh.

"So, what are we thinking?" he asked Garrus and Tali.

"Indoctrination, no question," the turian replied.

"Agreed," Tali added.

John put a hand up to rub his forehead, then began to walk back through the enclave to the lift. "You know, if people would just stop digging up artifacts or leaving Reaper tech out in the open, this wouldn't happen. I feel like that's not too much to ask. Am I crazy?"

"Oh you're definitely crazy," Garrus quipped back at him. "Maybe not about _that_ specifically, but definitely crazy."

John turned to Tali to defend him, and she put her hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry, I'm with him on that one."

He shook his head as they stepped into the lift and headed back down to the docking bay. The Citadel ring's private docks were made up of a multitude of levels, and they all rushed by as the lift descended into the lower decks of the ring. John closed his eyes, enjoying the moment of quiet as the floors rushed past, but it was soon interrupted by the chime of his omni-tool. He tapped it without thinking, and Liara's voice filtered into his earpiece.

" _Shepard, I've got good news,"_ she began.

John kept his eyes closed as they rode the lift. "The Reapers are tired of all this work and have decided to pack it in and head home early?"

" _I said 'good news', not 'a miraculous turn of events'."_

"Oh right, sorry. Always confuse those two. What's up?"

" _I believe I've successfully backtraced the signal of the Archivist, as you requested. The signal bounced around several dozen FTL comm channels, many of them reserved for top-clearance or black ops frequency bands. Whoever this person is, they're very familiar with military comm channel encryption."_

"Sounds elaborate," he replied. "But you were able to get a trace?"

" _Yes, the Archivist appears to be operating on a small desert planet called Rhodos. It's a backwater, by all accounts. No native flora or fauna to speak of, just...desert. Best guesses say there was a cataclysmic natural disaster, perhaps an asteroid collision, long ago that rendered the planet inhospitable."_

"So then how is the Archivist living there?" he asked, his eyes opening to look out the glass wall of the lift as he became engaged in the conversation.

" _I'm not entirely sure. Still, if they have a stockpile of supplies, it's a better place than most to hide out. I'll enter the coordinates into the Normandy's systems for you."_

"Thanks, we're on our way back now. Have you seen James? Last I heard he was looking for some more hands to staff the ranks."

" _Oh yes,"_ she replied. " _He's definitely done that."_

"Well that's ominous," he replied as the lift slowed and reached their destination. She cut the comm channel and he laughed quietly as the doors to their docking bay opened. He stepped out into the heavy bustle of the Citadel docks, and the three of them wove their way through the crowds, passing by shuttle and ship docks of all sizes before heading up the stairs that led out to the catwalk that ran alongside the Normandy. A large stack of crates obscured his view as they approached, but a smile found its way to his face when he heard them before he saw them.

"Put yer back into it, Gabby! We're playin' to win, here! Are you even pushing?!"

"Do you see the size of my arms, Kenneth? I'm not exactly the best partner for this!"

As he rounded the crates, John could see James seated one one side of a munitions crate, in the middle of an arm-wrestling match with Ken Donnelly, who was receiving additional support in the form of Gabriela Daniels pushing on his and James's locked hands with all of her strength. Two one one, and James simply laughed at the two of them as they tried their hardest to get his arm to budge.

"Oh man, good thing you two are in Engineering and not on the ground team," he called out as he approached, and all three of them looked up to meet his gaze. They stepped away from the crate and walked over to meet him.

"Hey Commander," James called out. "Found these two with a group of other Alliance regs, said they served with you before."

"Sure did!" Ken called out, stepping up to shake John's hand. "Sent those Collectors packing shite, we did."

"And you want to sign up for another tour?" John asked with a smile.

"Damn right," Gabby answered for them. "When the Normandy was taken by the Alliance, the whole crew were debriefed by Alliance brass. They asked some tough questions, but in the end we were all cleared of affiliation with Cerberus."

"Admiral Hackett's doing, I imagine," James added, and John nodded.

"Once the call came to prep for a potential attack," Gabby continued, "we all wanted to get back to the Normandy. Most of the team had family on Earth, though. Seemed wrong to them to leave that. And some of us just...were never the same after the trip through the Omega Four."

"Right," Ken added. "But not us. We asked to be posted here, thought it would be the best chance to run into you again once the shit hit the fan. Obviously a good plan."

"Yea, glad I thought of it," Gabby sneered.

"Never said you didn't!" Ken shot back, then paused. "Merely implied it, is all."

"Well I'm happy to have you both back," John began. "But...did you rustle up any others, James?"

"Sure did, Commander. They're inside getting cargo strapped down and working on your systems. Fresh faces to you, likely. They're a team from the _SSV Corsica_ , mostly colony recruits, stationed here for initial and specialized training before being added to the ship's crew. Problem is, th-"

"The _Corsica_ was destroyed in-atmo on Earth," John finished for him quietly, remembering his and Anderson's flight from Seattle-Vancouver.

"Bingo," Vega replied. The group stood in a stoic silence for a long moment, honoring the fallen, before he continued. "So, these guys need a ship to call home, and I figured where better than the Normandy. Their chain of command is a little in shambles at the moment, but Comms Officer Traynor seems to be leading the lot of them as best she can, so I'd start there."

"Sounds good, nice work, Vega." The man nodded at the praise, and John looked around the docks for a long moment before sighing. "Alright, if we're all stocked up, let's get back out there. We're headed for Sur'Kesh next."

The group turned and walked together back to the ship's airlock. "Heard some reports from some amigos that the salarians are sitting out? We're headed there to put boots to asses, right Commander?"

John chuckled as they entered the Normandy, the Citadel's lighting replaced my the glow of dozens of haptic terminals, at each of which sat a crew member. He looked down the walkway into the CIC, seeing it fully staffed again, and something inside him felt...better. He never liked the Normandy without a full crew. "Yea, James. Boots to asses." His gaze followed a few crew members as they moved here and there in their pre-flight tasks, and came to rest on a woman standing next to the galaxy map in the CIC. Of all the people that had just been introduced to their new home, she was the only one who locked and held his gaze, and he nodded to her before crossing over.

With the exception of Ken and Gabby, he thought as he walked down the corridor, they were all brand new to this ship he called home. In the coming weeks and months they would see and experience, with any luck, some of the best and most terrifying moments of their lives aboard his ship. They would be pushed to the absolute limit, and they would rise above it. They would push back the Reapers, save the galaxy. And, he thought as he glanced over at Tali, if they were truly lucky they would find something even greater than that. It was all new, it was all unknown.

And in that moment he was truly envious of them.

* * *

The man grunted as he hefted the crate from its position near the small shuttle port on the Citadel. He carried it across the stretch of ground and loaded it into the back of a skycar before closing the cargo hold and hammering on it twice with the palm of his hand. He stepped away as the engines flared to life, and the car rose up and away into the distance. The man returned to the remaining crates, wiping the sweat off of his brow and grabbing his nearby water pouch. Pressing his lips to it and taking a long, well-deserved drink, he cast his gaze into the traffic lanes in the air above, watching with squinted eyes as the Normandy glided gracefully into the docking area from the Citadel's private docks further inward, aligning itself with an exit vector and jetting off into the nebula. As it flew out and away into space far above his head, a small shuttle passed it coming into port. The shuttle slipped down between all the traffic and came to a steady rest on the landing pad by which the man stood.

He set his water pouch back down stop the crate he'd been about to lift and sauntered up the walkway just as the shuttle's side-hatch opened and a man stepped out of it. He wore a tan leather jacket with styled pads over the shoulders, olive green pants leading down to well-shined black combat boots. His hair was black and shoulder-length, hanging loosely about his face, and he had an overall disheveled-yet-lethal air about him. The man scrunched his face up in confusion and approached him.

"'Scuse me, buddy," he called out as the man stepped off of the shuttle, "this dock's a private landing pad. I-It's only usable by Si-"

"Sirta Foundation," the man replied in a gruff voice, looking him square in the eye. "I'm aware." The dockworker's own eyes widened in fear as he met the man's impenetrable steely gaze. His dark blue eyes seemed to bore right into the worker's head, and he came up short in his physical approach towards the man.

"Uh...yea, that's right. I mean, that's the big-wigs' rules and all. I-I don't personally mind, I'm happy to help out anyone in need of a hand. Do...do you have nav confirmation?" He paused for a long moment as the man simply stared him down. "Uh, you know. For my manifest paperwork."

After a long moment, the man looked down, pulling up his omni-tool and initiating a credit transfer to the worker's own omni-tool. He tapped at the device with fingers that looked almost made of metal...but the worker quickly stopped staring. His own father had been in the war, and he knew it was impolite to stare at battle wounds, even those from wars long past.

"How do those look?" the man asked, again in a low gruff voice. The worker looked at his account, astonished at the amount of money transferred across. The back of his neck began to sweat, and he stammered before speaking again.

"Um...yea I...I suppose that'll about clear ya," he said warily. "I can give you about fifteen minutes before the next scheduled shuttle's supposed to land."

"And we never met," the man added on. It was not a question.

"Oh yea, 'course not. Don't uh...don't want any trouble." The man nodded once, sharply, and looked back to signal someone else on the shuttle. Within the span of five minutes, a small crew had carried out all the supplies the man had brought with him, lifted the shuttle back off into space, and a skycar the worker had never seen before arrived on the scene to carry both the supplies and the crew away into the Citadel. The man with the metal hand stared at him as they lifted off, and he offered up a half-hearted wave of thanks that the man did not return. As the skycar sped away, he watched after it, wondering what a day in that man's life must be like. After a long moment, he shrugged, returning to the landing pad and lifting yet another crate to move across the floor for distribution. After all, he thought as he performed his job, with all that Reaper madness happening out in the stars, he was just happy that his life, safe here on the Citadel, wasn't all that exciting.


	19. Changing of the Guard

****Author's Note**  
** Hello again, everyone!

Trying to get updates out faster as, contrary to recent chapter update  
trends, I  _would_  actually like to finish this book at some point in the future!  
My chapters are likely to be shorter as we go forward, as breaking large  
segment pieces into fewer parts helps me complete them in a timely manner.  
So you'll likely end up with more chapters overall, but more frequent as well.

As always, thanks for the reviews, PMs, and comments! See you in the  
next chapter!

* * *

****Chapter 17: Changing of the Guard  
** **

"It's an impressive dossier, to be sure," John stated after the woman had stopped speaking. She had rattled off her credentials and those of her team, complete with a manifest of all relevant personnel information on a datapad she'd handed to him, and she nodded sharply in response, leading him away from the CIC and through to the old conference room.

"We've cleaned up and de-scrambled the QE relay, so you should be able to get clear calls from in here, just as you had before." Her hands tapped furiously at the new haptic console in the table's surface, and a testing runtime popped into existence over its surface, running diagnostics.

"We?" he asked as he watched it run, "Everyone I saw out there was familiarizing themselves with the new equipment, or carrying cargo into the bay.

She smirked in reply. "Alright,  _me_."

He smiled back. "You're a woman of many talents, Traynor."

She nodded. "I try to be. Since the  _Corsica_...I'm all the leadership the team has. Not much, I'm afraid, but beggars can't be choosers." She stopped her train of thought, gesturing to him. "Well, I mean, until now, apparently. Last place I think the team ever imagined ending up was stationed on the  _Normandy_. It's an honor, sir." She saluted him quickly, as though realizing she hadn't yet, eager as she had been to get into the details of her posting.

" _Shepard,_ " EDI's voice called out from above them. " _Officer Traynor attempted to make several improvements to my core programming in the process of upgrading the Normandy's systems. They would all be welcome additions to my core set, but require your approval as commanding officer in order to implement."_

"If you're good with them, then I am, EDI." he replied.

" _Acknowledged. Processing upgrades now, I will be minimally available for flight and combat assistance while the associated runtimes collate and execute."_

"So Jeff's in total control, huh? Maybe I'll think twice about those upgrades after all." A short pause hung in the air before she replied.

" _Was that a joke?"_

He chuckled. "Yea, EDI, that was a joke. Go ahead and process the upgrades, we'll be fine down here." He looked back down at Traynor, whose eyes sat as wide as dinner plates in her head, and allowed himself another small laugh.

"She's fully aware," the woman barely whispered.

"Yea," John confirmed, turning to leave the conference room and motioning for her to follow. She fell in step beside him as they walked back to the CIC. "She was originally a Cerberus construct, but we ran into some nasty situations while hunting the Collectors, and eventually it came down to unshackling her or losing the ship." He stopped for a moment, turning to face her. "I stand by the call I made, and I say that as someone who's closer than most with a quarian, but I understand if it's a deal-breaker for you and yours." She seemed to snap out of a stupor, shaking her head adamantly.

"No, not at all, Shepard. Hell, if she helped stop those colony-stealing bastards, I'd have made the decision myself. It just makes...certain recent situations a bit awkward, is all." He arched an eyebrow, and she blushed, suddenly becoming very interested in the door that led them back into the CIC. "Nothing to concern yourself with, Commander," she replied. "All your systems should be up to date before we reach our next destination. Which is...?" she trailed off, and he smirked, stepping up to the galaxy map and expanding the salarian quadrant.

"There you are," Liara's voice called out from behind him, and he turned to greet her.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I finished backtracing the signals from the Archivist's transmissions," she replied, handing him a datapad. On its surface, a small desert planet hung, rotating slowly. "It's called Rhodos, a complete backwater in the middle of nowhere." She placed a hand to her forehead, rubbing the skin there. "I have absolutely no clue how they managed to get a signal there, much less one strong enough to intercept and hack Cerberus networks, but I'm sure that's where this person is...if you're still interested."

He nodded. "I am, nice work Liara." She smiled and nodded in return. "And it's not that far from here, if my astrogation is still as sharp as I hope it is. Joker!" he called out to the room.

" _Yea, Shepard?"_  his pilot called back over the intercom.

"I'm sending you coordinates to a remote world, we're making a quick stop there. Then Sur'Kesh.

" _Finally taking me on that vacation you promised, commander?"_

John's mouth twisted up in a smirk. "Keep dreaming, Joker. If this place is your idea of a vacation, I think we need to see other people."

" _Well, that's appropriately soul-crushing,"_ the man replied, pausing for a moment afterwards. " _Coordinates are in, be there in a couple of hours._ "

He looked back down to see Traynor scanning her eyes around the CIC at her team, a small smile playing across her face. He let her drink it in in silence for a moment, then spoke quietly to her. "This is the first time on a warship for a lot of them, isn't it?"

"Yes," she whispered in return. "They saw what happened at the Citadel, and they believed what you said about the Reaper threat. Most of them were ostracized in their colonies for believing you. They volunteered for many reasons, but they all want to help in the fight; especially now that it's truly here and their worst fears have been confirmed."

He nodded. "They'll see the fight, alright." His gaze hardened, then, thinking of those whom he had lost along the way. "I just hope they're ready for it."

She didn't meet his eyes, instead continuing to look at her people, but her voice was steel, hardened and resolute. "They will be, sir. I swear it."

* * *

The crowd that mingled around outside the main C-Sec offices ebbed and flowed, a myriad of different species traversing the Wards for an equal myriad of reasons. Among them, a man walked steadily in a dark jacket, eyeing everyone around him as he moved. He crossed the stream of traffic to stand in front of the C-Sec office for a moment, taking a deep breath before accessing the interface panel and walking in.

"Good morning," a turian officer called out to him as he approached. "What can I do for you?"

"Learn your place," the man whispered harshly. The turian took an instinctive step back, but the man lunged for him, embedding a knife in the turian's throat. A spray of blood leaped forward from the wound as the man ripped the blade out, turning to hurl it across the room at another turian who had immediately stood to come to his partner's aid. The knife caught him in the eye, and he tumbled backwards over a desk, as a siren called out and the main doors slammed shut, the interface over them glowing red. The man grabbed the arm of the dying turian he'd first attacked, using him as a shield to absorb the rain of gunfire as he rushed toward the opposite side of the foyer, where a pair of humans stood rattling off fire from their assault rifles. Klaxons continued to sound off, and he listened as he fought, eventually hearing the explosion far in the distance that he had been waiting for. The sirens stopped, and the lights above them cut out, as did the gunfire from the C-Sec officers as they reached for their flashlights.

Kai Leng reached up to tap the side of his mask, and it snapped into night-vision as he raced forward, slashing the throat of the nearest guard and causing his partner beside him to scream out in terror. She slammed her hand down onto the terminal in front of her, and a shimmering blue barrier erupted around her corner of the office, blocking with a crackling sizzle the blade he'd already sent screaming toward her. Her flashlight, which she had dropped in her panic, lay next to him outside the barrier, its light shining against the wall of the room, and he kicked it away with his boot, causing her to yelp in fear. He allowed her to stay in the darkness and terror for a long moment before he held up his hand, allowing his omni-tool to slowly whittle away the encryption behind the defensive construct. In an instant, it evaporated, and he closed slowly with her, raising his blade even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see. Behind his mask, he saw her pupils darting all over her field of vision, trying desperately to make sense of the darkness, and he drove the blade home, watching her expression freeze as he pulled it back out and she tumbled to the floor. Staring at her corpse for a long moment, he moved away and tapped at his omni-tool to test his control over the network. All around him, emergency lighting sprang to life, and the doors ahead of him snapped open, allowing his team to move in and sweep the rest of the building.

Outside, a crowd of people had gathered at the noise, people of every species curious at the commotion. When they saw the bodes, they gasped. Some ran in panic, others froze in fear, and as the doors closed once again behind his team, he let the faintest of smiles cross his face. They would soon learn. Or they would die.

* * *

The space station hung in orbit over the blue-green surface of Sur'Kesh, locked in geosynchronous orbit so that it always remained above the capital city of Talat. In the underbelly of the station, in a cargo bay filled with weapons and devices that would not see the standard galactic market for another ten years, if they all survived that long, sat a small shuttle. Beside it stood it's commanding officer, and next to him, the orbital stations director.

"No one knows why; it's all extremely sudden," the man was saying. Kirrahe simply looked out the viewport at the planet's surface below.

"And the Councilor?" he asked quietly.

"We've had one or two transmissions, nothing for the past few hours, though. Our operatives in the field have collaborated that; their Citadel contacts have gone quiet."

"All at once, though?" Kirrahe mused.

"Either something's happening there, or the Dalatrass's reach is even greater than we thought." Kirrahe shook his head.

"How did this happen?" He asked quietly, to no one in particular. "We're supposed to take action when no one else can; be independent of government oversight. We report only to her. How is it that the one person in the galaxy who can stop us doing what needs to be done is the one making the insane decisions?"

"And yet the situation gets only more convoluted from there," the other salarian continued. "We know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we're needed in this war against the Reapers. But to defy her orders and act on our own accords destroys the very foundation upon which we were built."

"And labels us treasonous," Kirrahe added nonchalantly.

"Yes, that as well. But the true question is whether or not we're willing to abandon everything we are, everything we have been for centuries, to take our place in this fight."

The two stayed silent for a long moment, both staring out at the peaceful surface of the planet and thinking. After what felt like hours, Kirrahe turned to his companion with a sigh. "Continue trying to reach the Councilor, at all costs." He turned to walk back towards the shuttle, and the station director called to him.

"And you?"

Kirrahe looked back over his shoulder, fully aware of the line he was about to cross. "I have some favors I need to call in."

If he was going to cross the line, he figured, he may as well leap over it.

* * *

John gritted his jaw as the shuttle rocked fitfully in the harsh winds of Rhodos yet again. Their descent had been little more than a controlled freefall interrupted by short bouts of thruster activity to stabilize the craft, and he was beginning to wonder if the trip would ever end.

"Sorry about the chop, Commander," Cortez called from beyond the partition that separated the bridge from the stern of the shuttle. "I'm doing the best I can here, but we're not exactly coasting over a quiet lake." He grunted as soon as he finished the sentence, working his fingers wildly over the controls as another gale-force blast hammered the hull of their shuttle. John felt a bit sick to his stomach, though he knew the shuttle ride was hardly the only reason why.

It was hard to say whether the Archivist had always known John would come calling even after agreeing not to, or if they had simply planned for the possibility. Either way, their message had been cryptic, but far more demanding than any previous interactions he'd had with them. John figured if he were going to break his word after all, he'd at least play by the rules now that he was here. And so he found himself coming, alone, to an outpost on a remote world, with not a clue what he was about to discover.

"I'd say you're doing the best anyone could, Steve," John called back up to the helm. "Nav point says we should be right above the LZ."

"Yea," the pilot called back after a few seconds of quiet, "I can see the beacon you mentioned."

John moved to the helm of the shuttle and looked out the main viewport. Sand whipped all across the surface of the planet, but the pulsing green light continued to shine through, indicating the landing pad the Archivist had told them to use. Cortez deftly lowered the shuttle to land just next to it, and as the craft touched down, John let out an audible sigh.

"Yea, same here," Cortez quipped. John shot the man a relieved smile and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nice work. Sure I can't convince you to fly the Normandy?"

Cortez chuckled as he checked over post-flight diagnostics for the shuttle's internal systems. "No thanks, Commander. Much as I hate to admit when Joker's right, she's too much ship for me to handle. I'd say he's still your best bet at the helm."

"Shh," John replied quietly, "he'll fucking hear you all the way from down here."

Cortez chuckled again, but the mood quickly fell back into seriousness. "You...you sure you want to head in there solo, Shepard?"

"Oh I'm not sure about it at all," John replied, watching out the viewport as the sandstorm whipped and flared around their shuttle. "But I've already broken the rules once; don't really have the moral ground to stand on and fight the Archivist's demands."

Cortez nodded. "Alright, well...I'll keep her ready to fly at a moment's notice."

"Appreciate it," he replied, turning to walk back to the side hatch. He took a deep breath, secured his helmet's airtight seals, and opened it up just far enough to slip out underneath, closing it behind him. He turned to look out over the sandscape, and wandered away from the green beacon. For a long moment, he wondered exactly how he was supposed to know where to go, when a low rumbling caught his attention. To his right, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large hatch emerge from just beneath the sand, it's portal opening to lead down a long staired tunnel. He crossed to it, taking one look back at the shuttle before stepping inside. The hatch closed behind him, and the hair on the back of his neck raised. He mentally suppressed the instinct to rub his hand against it, instead carefully following the stairs down to a landing at the bottom. Soft orange light poured out from a doorway on the left side of the landing, and he stepped cautiously around the corner, standing full in the doorway for a long moment before the man called out to him.

"You never were good at following my orders." The remark had no venom, just a sense of sad resignation; and the voice that carried it to John's aural pickups was rough and haggard. John reached up slowly, removing his helmet and setting it on the bottom stair before passing through the entryway. The only light in the room came from the myriad array of orange terminals adorning the wall directly across from where he stood, but they provided plenty of illumination for a room this small. In front of the terminals, a single chair, which creaked as its occupant stood and turned around its edge to meet John's gaze. "Though I suppose this had to happen eventually," he finished the thought before raising the glass to his lips and taking another drink. He swallowed it roughly, coughing a bit at the end into his balled fist.

"Illusive Man..." John thought aloud, the realization having a tough time sinking in. He looked as if he'd aged twenty years in the short time since their last conversation. His hands shook slightly, and even at this distance, John could see sickly black and blue bruised tendrils crawling away from his optical implants, working their way across his cheekbones and up towards his temples. The man shook his head.

"Not anymore," he said with no small amount of irritation. "Seems the Spectres aren't the only ones who can be betrayed from within."

"I've met your replacement," John replied as he crossed over to take a seat on the small cot that the Illusive Man called his bed. The other man reached over to turn his chair to face him, then sat back into it with some difficulty and an audible sigh.

"Oh? How did that play out for you?"

"Could have gone better."

The man nodded along, and their conversation fell into a pained silence. He took another long drink, then met John's eyes for a long moment before speaking again. "He's a whole different kind of monster, Shepard. When I started Cerberus, I meant for it to harden humanity; to make us ready for the challenges we would face as we started reaching further and further into space. It was never about human domination, or blind xenophobia. Not at first, anyway..." he trailed off, looking over to the monitors.

"The road to hell..." John quipped to him, and the man scoffed.

"If you like." He paused again, peering at John with his husk-like eyes for a long moment before speaking again. "Did you ever wonder why I believed your stories about the Reapers, Shepard? Didn't it ever bother you that I seemed to be the only person outside of your crew with their first-hand experience who was fully willing to take your word?"

"I was a little too busy chasing the Collectors to worry about what information you might have been able to scrounge up."

"Fair point." He shifted in the chair, a winced expression shooting across his face in the process. "I fought in the First Contact War, you know. Special ops division, serving under the late Ashley Williams's grandfather. My unit and I fought the turians across every theater of that war, including Shanxi. But do you know what the worst part about that conflict was, Shepard? It wasn't the massive casualties, or the wet work missions, or even the inevitable deaths of civilians. It was the cave."

"What cave?" John asked, genuinely intrigued. The man paused to take another drink, looking away for a moment before replying.

"We were dropped onto a turian-held world for a sabotage strike. The cave lied beneath a major military installation of theirs, so my unit infiltrated to set demolition charges and bring it all down from below. But when we holed up in there, we discovered a kind of...cult, I guess you'd call it. Turians in shape and appearance, but they had no armor, no weapons. When we found them, they were simply kneeling before a stone-wrought artifact on a pedestal deep within the cave. Once we'd scouted enough to realize that not only were they not holding any weapons, but that there weren't even any weapons in the cave with them, we announced ourselves."

John put his hands behind him on the cot and pushed his legs forward slightly to get more comfortable. "I'm guessing you weren't well-received?"

"That's putting it lightly," he replied, taking another drink. His hand shook as he did so, and when he lowered the glass it thudded slightly against the surface of the arm rest. "They came screaming after us, this sound like I'd never heard before, that is until I saw vids of husk swarms years later. And they fit the part as well, with all their...well..." he gestured to his own countenance, and John nodded silently. He sighed, taking another drink and wincing at some unseen pain before speaking again. "By the time we'd finished them off, they'd wiped out my team. With no weapons, Shepard; they'd clawed them to pieces. I saw their strength, their fury..."

"You saw possibility," John finished for him quietly.

He nodded. "I did, I'm not ashamed to admit it. I wanted to see what they had seen, find a way to control it, harness it for humanity. So I dragged one of them back to one of our science outposts, ten miles across a wasteland and war-zone, and started experimenting. Let's just say I didn't have the...resources...I had until recently. I had to improvise when it came to testing."

John shook his head as he looked into the man's cybernetic eyes, and the thick black and blue veins that flowed away from them. A long silence fell between them, and the other spoke first.

"You were right, Shepard."

"Sorry?"

"You were right. I wanted to succeed so badly, especially after what I learned once I took their vision for my own. I sacrificed everything to make humanity as strong as it could be, created Cerberus so that humanity would be ready for the Reapers. But somewhere along the way..." he shook his head, staring down into the glass for a long moment before reaching under his chair and removing a pistol. John stiffened and sat upright, watching his hand intently. He looked down at the weapon as he continued. "I tried, many times. They won't let me. I thought I had them in check; for years I pushed away their power, their control."

"They're here now," John whispered. "Their signal is stronger than ever, I'd imagine."

The other man nodded. "My conclusion as well. I fade in and out, losing days at a time. I imagine soon...I won't have the strength anymore." He stayed silent for a moment, then held the pistol out to John, who simply stared back at the man. "Take the gun, Shepard. End this before they can. God knows I'm not a good man, by any means."

"No, you're not," John replied. "I should just let them take you, for what you've done; what you've authorized."

"Perhaps," the man ceded the point. "But you won't. I know you better than you might hope I did, Shepard. You won't allow them a resource like me, even if it means doing me a favor." John shook his head, and the man continued. "The rest of the data you need is in my terminal, along with a bevy of information on recent Cerberus activities. I wasn't without my contingency plans."

"You never were," John whispered.

The man ignored the statement. "Take the data, stop Cerberus, end the Reapers. Before they turn us all into...this." He stared into John's eyes for a long moment, then turned in his chair, facing the bank of monitors in front of him. John activated the pistol, aiming the barrel at the back of the man's head and drawing a deep breath.

A few minutes later, John emerged back into the harsh light of midday on the planet's surface, sand whipping all around him as he crossed the empty wastes back towards the shuttle. He turned as he exited the tunnel and it began to close behind him, kneeling to access its control panel and pulling up a hacking program on his omni-tool that Tali had crafted for him. He attacked the interface over and over, layers upon layers of quarian encryption that would ensure it would never open again, and at long last he stood, staring down at the red-glowing interface for a moment before turning and reaching the shuttle.

"Commander?" Cortez called back to him as the side hatch closed. John sat heavily on the bench in the stern of the shuttle with a sigh, checking his omni-tool one more time to ensure he had a complete copy of all the data the Illusive Man had held. He did.

"We're done here, Steve," he called back quietly, and his pilot, sensing the tension, simply nodded. The thrusters were fired up, and the shuttle screamed up and away from the surface of Rhodos, with no small amount of shaking in the process. Back to the Normandy; back home.

Under the sands of Rhodos, in a bunker that had been rendered a tomb, Jack Harper stirred to consciousness. His head throbbed from the unseen strike that had knocked him out, and he rubbed at it aimlessly as he looked around the small room. Shepard was nowhere to be seen, and as his eyes came across the bank of monitors, every one of them cracked, sparking, and full of bullet holes, he let out an inhuman roar of rage just as a flare of their dominance slicked over his mind once more. This time, he lacked the strength to push them away, and as they began to seep into his mind, he looked frantically around the room, his eyes coming to rest on his bed. The pistol lay there, the one he had offered Shepard, and he rushed to it, summoning his last shred of willpower to activate it, press the barrel to his own head, and pull the trigger.

_Click._


End file.
